


Hard To Do

by MaxIsconfused



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Bigotry & Prejudice, Derek Hale Needs Therapy, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Discrimination, Dom Stiles Stilinski, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub Derek Hale, Subspace, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxIsconfused/pseuds/MaxIsconfused
Summary: An alternate universe where Derek has been saved from a horrible situation, Stiles just wants to help, and everything goes wrong before it gets better (but it does get better.)Stiles tapped his foot on the ground impatiently, the small bag in his hands swaying beside it. This was it, he was being assigned a submissive in exactly thirty-two minutes. Not any submissive, though, Stiles was a police officer especially trained to care for subs who have been through trauma. Technically a submissive didn't need a dominant to survive, but one thing that rang clear in their biology is that one's mental state relied strongly on the presence of a submissive or dominant. Which left Stiles, sitting in the plastic police station chairs, ready to meet his submissive for the next six months.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I have severe writer's block for my other fic, so I'm writing this idea out instead. :/  
> Warnings will be written out in each chapters end notes when neccersary, but need the tags!!
> 
> Xx
> 
> Based on the song hard to do :
> 
> Oh, I've been thinking that I don't wanna leave  
> That this house isn't home to me  
> I'm tired of losing everyone I see  
> Now that you're here, it's a hard thing to do  
> Trying to hold on  
> But I need you  
> Far more than I ever want you  
> It's such an unnatural thing we do  
> When falling in love's just so hard to do  
> Hard to do

Stiles tapped his foot on the ground impatiently, the small bag in his hands swaying beside it. This was it, he was being assigned a submissive in exactly thirty-two minutes. Not any submissive, though, Stiles was a police officer especially trained to care for subs who have been through trauma. Technically a submissive didn't need a dominant to survive, but one thing that rang clear in their biology is that one's mental state relied strongly on the presence of a submissive or dominant. Which left Stiles, sitting in the plastic police station chairs, ready to meet his submissive for the next six months.

The first had been Isaac, a man around his age who had been removed from the house of an abusive father. He had been skittish and frightened, but it only took a month to break his shell. They were still good friends, and Isaac was now his best friend Scott McCall's submissive.

Next had been Erica , a submissive who actually had a Dominant already. Stiles had mainly been helping them sort out how to scene around the constant risk of Erica's siezures, and they too still keep in touch.

But he's been told that this one is different, and when Stiles stands at the sound of a door opening he turns and can already feel adrenaline spiking his system.

The man is tall, with dark borrowed clothes which are torn at the arms. He has a head of long matted black hair, and eyebrows to match. A thick tangled beard hid half his face in shadow. Thunder and fury are protruding from every line of his face, emphasised by his tightly clenched fists which strain against metal handcuffs. Wait, handcuffs?

Stiles gaped at him, this apparent submissive that was being half dragged by two officers, both of them sending looks of sympathy his way. Before he could open his mouth and say something stupid, there was a clearing of a throat from beside him.

Jumping into the air and turning in shock, Stiles was faced with his dad who in response raised his eyebrows and gestured to his office.

 

They entered his office, leaving the submissive and two officers to be gawked at by the rest of the precinct. Stiles waited until the door closed, and then whirled around with an overwhelmed look in his eyes.

"Is that?! The submissive!?" He half screeched, being faced with so much fury and toxic masculinity from a single person having made his voice go high.

The sheriff sat at his desk, having a sigh. He tapped at his computer for a moment, then looked up at Stiles.

"I'm about to show you confidential footage from an officer's bodycam. This cannot be discussed with anyone but will help you get a grip of the situation." John letured sternly with a grim expression. "Okay?"

Stiles bobbed his head up and down frantically, going over behind his dad's desk to look at the screen. "Okay."

 

The image was fuzzy and dark, loud sounds of rustling fabric eminating from the shadows. Suddenly a hand pulled away from the lens, revealing a pristine living room filled with officers. They muttered to eachother , one let out a shout, and charged forward to break through a locked door between pale pieces of furniture. The image was fuzzy again as the officers moved down the stairs the door had revealed, announcing their arrival as they went.

The light changed immediately to a dingy red. When they reached the basement there was audible gagging from one of the officers, and comments about a putrid smell. The basement room was filled with metal tables with tools and equipment splayed across them, large cabinets locked away, there was also a fridge, sink and toilet in one corner - all filthy. Then the walls caught their attention, chains and cables hanging down like the set of a saw movie.

One of the officers yelled out in surprise, jumping back. The view got interrupted for a ment before the camera revealed the source of his alarm - in the far right corner there was a flat, stained mattress. Chains crumpled in piles around it, twisting up to a hard metal collar around a man's neck and shackles around his wrists. He was crouched defensively in front of another person, with a knife in his hand.

The man's face was covered by hair, tangled to the point of dreadlocks, and his body was naked and marred with horrifying wounds that were reflected in the torture devices around them. All the officers had frozen and stared at them. For a second the other person lifted a hand onto the man's shoulder, dragging himself out just enough to peek at them with fearful eyes.

He was nowhere near as injured, but the larger man still stayed in front with a murderous warning in his glare.

One officer made to go closer but narrowly avoided being stabbed when the man swiped forward, a terrified growl being released.

The man screamed out with a fear filled voice, "STAY AWAY FROM US."

The camera jogged rapidly when an officer came up close again, this time with his gun raised, "we're not going to hurt you, this is a mild tranquilliser, okay?" He attempted to reason.

The man, wild with terror like a cornered animal, lunged forward with a snarl. Only to fall onto the floor when the officer shot him in the chest. The figure that had cowered behind him screamed in alarm, voice shrill with missuse.

"DEREK!NO!DEREK HELP!!" he cried when an officer went to take him from the mattress, hand trying to grab onto the unconscious form. "HELP!!!"

 

When the camera shut off Stiles was silent, letting all the information sink into his disgusted brain. John had a bleak expression as he closed the computer and turned to him. They sat for a moment, until Stiles cleared his throat.

"So, that's Derek." John nodded. "A sub assigned to me who was a person's...?"

"Technically he was registered as her submissive, they had an official relationship." The sheriff started, running a hand through his greying hair in frustration. "But he went missing a year ago. And so did she. We got a tip about submissive trafficking, but when we raided the house it was empty except from that basement."

"And the other submissive?" Stiles questioned uncertaintly, the cries of help from the video still echoing in his ears.

"Placed with a specialist, he won't talk to us. Although all we could get out of him was that he needed Derek. Which obviously isn't allowed until Derek is settled." John sighed, frowning at his own thoughts, before looking up at Stiles. "So, can you take him in?"

"Dad, I don't even know what his requirements are! How am I supposed to Dom him? Have you SEEN him?!" Stiles burst out, both hands tapping against the desk with agitation.

"You and me both know you are a supurb Dominant! Size and physique are not factors in a person's ability to be Dominant or submissive. This man is extremely stressed, he's terrified and has already tried to escape using violence three times! He needs help!" John stopped, face stern and chest heaving from his speech.

The other man twitched, face twisted in a grimace. He held up against the glare for one second, two, before breaking.

"Fine." Stiles huffed, walking back around John's desk to sit in one of the chairs placed Infront of it. "Bring him in."

 

When Derek was pulled through the door Stiles stood to his feet, offering a smile and a wave. The other man audibly gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing and a vein in his forehead jumping. Great start.

He was pushed into a chair facing Stiles, with a small table in between and the sheriff's desk to his left, and the two officers unlocked his handcuffs and left. Silence.

Stiles begun, forcing confidence into his voice, "hello, my name is Stiles Stilinski, and I'm your assigned Dominant for the next six months."

He let that hang in the air, waiting for a reaction - and boy did he get one. First the submissives eyes widened in fear, all colour draining from his face. He shot up from his seat and backed against the wall, his hands braced behind him.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" He spat, the glare doing little to hide the blind terror on his face, Derek sharply turned to the sheriff. "You promised! You said this wouldn't happen!"

Stiles watched his dad in shock, as the sheriff held out his arms placatingly, "i promised you wouldn't be put into unsafe hands, but Derek," he fixed the man with a stern look, " we both know that you need a Dom to recover better. This is my son, and you are going to let him help you."

The sub looked away from him in despair, the beginnings of tears in his eyes. Stiles froze for a moment, thinking, before stepping closer and resting his hand hesitantly on Derek's bearded cheek. The man flinched and looked at him incredulously.

"It's going to be okay, I promise," Stiles said , eyes searching for a slither of reassurance in the subs face.

For a second he thought he found it. Suddenly there was a smack as a fist hit his cheek. Everything went muted and fuzzy as Stiles stumbled back from the blow, hand going up to clutch at his face. The sheriff was yelling and Stiles could see blood dripping from Derek's shaking hand. Maybe not then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's barely been a day but I feel like I'm on a roll so why not ~ a couple general warnings apply so of you are sensitive to the tags go check the end notes. 
> 
> Xx

The car ride was silent, Derek curled inwards on his seat and Stiles attempting to drive with a black eye. They were both tired, Derek obviously more so, and Stiles couldnt wait to get home. He had a to do list (of sorts) which he planned to complete at least one task from before night time. The list was decidedly short but sweet;

-Set up Derek's room  
-Establish ground rules and safewords  
-Cook dinner  
-Tend to some of Derek's injuries  
-Dont get punched in the face.

Slowing to a stop, Stiles turned to the sub with a wary smile, "try not to run away just yet, please."

Derek stared, eyes boring into him from behind his ragged hair. He slowly nodded, then got out the car. Stiles did the same, and they reached his houses front door without any incidents. Once inside, the sub started to tremble. It was barely noticeable in his hands, but Stiles saw and he felt his brow crease with worry.

"Hey, you okay?" The Dom asked him, hands firmly at his sides.

Derek looked around his house, eyes wide. The hallway was pretty unremarkable, with the occaisional placement of comic memorabilia on shelves and some dirty shoes strewn on the floor. There was a faint stream of light from a side window, the whole house smelt faintly of honey. It definitely wasn't home, but it wasn't that place either. He ducked his head, "I'm fine."

Clapping his hands together, Stiles startled himself into action.

"C'mon let's go see your room! It's pretty generic right now but if you tell me what things you like we can-" Derek started to block his voice out, following the Dom up his stairs to a series of rooms. He tuned back in. "-so here are the rooms, that one's mine, that's the office, that's the bathroom and this is all yours!"

The sub flinched at the moving hand that tapped his shoulder, frowning at the apparent obliviousness of the supposed adult before him. But then he saw his room.

Steady streams of light slithered between curtains, lighting the space with a soft glow. There was a clean bed, made with extra quilts on top, and a little bedside table. Opposite there was a desk in front of the window, looking out on the back gardens of the other houses. And finally there was a closet, left open, with books and large shirts and sweatpants piled up.

Derek felt a lump in his throat, and a stinging in his eyes the more he looked at his room. The walls were a warm pale yellow, and the bedsheets were mismatching shades of blue. The desk had deep ink stains and the carpet was pressed down from constant footfall. He loved it.

Stiles stepped into the room and placed the small bag he had been carrying around with him onto the bed. Gesturing towards Derek, he coaxed him to sit on the bed and braced himself for another bad reaction.

"So, we have two things to do." He started, Derek raised his impressive eyebrows in question. "First the topic of boundaries."

He saw a muscle twitch in the subs jaw, but the man stayed quiet.

"And second is your current... State." The Dom awkwardly ended his sentence with a flourish towards the man's ragged appearance, a half smile on his face.

Unexpectedly, the subs face flushed a shade darker and he looked down in shame -prejecting misery from every pore. Stiles felt a pang in his chest at the sight, and dared to place a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Hey , it's cool, okay? You go have a shower, I'll get the first aid kit, and we'll be done in twenty - promise."

Derek nodded gruffly, standing and heading to the bathroom. Stiles was smiling to himself as he left - they were making progress!

 

Derek turned the shower off when all the  
dirt and dried blood washed off his skin, feeling like a different person. Until he looked in the mirror. Then it all came crashing back.

There were the bruises, hickies along his neck and thighs, big dark marks on his stomach, thin stripes of yellow layered into his wrists and ankles. Burns, some coiled up his arms and legs, some licked across his torso, small ciggerete burns made patterns along his back. Thin scalpel cuts along his chest. Thick chunks of flesh missing from his leg. A dark and oozing infection wrapped around his throat. He felt like a shard of glass, painful to touch. Like he could rip away his skin and not even care - if only it erased the marks she had carved into him.

Not knowing how much time had passed, the sub startled at a tentative knock on the door, and mumbled an affirmative in response to Stiles's concern. He wrapped a towel around himself, and opened the door to breeze past the Dom and go back to his new room. What was gonna come next would definitely require some resistance, so Derek schooled his glare back onto his bleak face.

The Dom sat opposite him on the bed and started almost immediately, something Derek was grateful for. The less build up the better.

 

Stiles wrapped his first line of bandage around Derek's arm, hearing him wince. The more wounds he covered the more grim the Dom felt. The sickly combination of his own horror that a person could do this to a sub, the gruesome details of the injuries and the bitter shame Derek showed made him feel ill. After working on his torso, and legs, they had finally gotten to the worst part.

Derek shifted uncomfortably, the tears he had been pathetically unable to control feeling hot against his skin. Stiles sighed, hands gripping eachother stressfully.

"We can just get this over and done with, do you have any wounds on your crotch or lower ...parts ?" Stiles asked, cheeks burning red.

Derek stared so intensely at the wall that Stiles expected to see it burst into flames.

"My ass," he deadpanned, all emotion seeping out of his expression to be locked behind a wall.

The Dom nodded, and after a moment Derek turned over on the bed and showed him. Stiles hissed to himself at the sight of the long whelts that lashed across his skin, wanting to scream in fury. He carefully cleaned the wounds, expression stoic, and then got out a pair of soft pajamas.

"I, didn't know what size you were but I think these will fit you. " Stiles said calmly, trying to keep his voice even.

The submissive shakily got up, more bandage then skin showing at this point, and put on the soft black clothes. He tried not to preen at their warmth, running a hand along one long sleeve. Seeing the Dom's small pleased smile he knew he failed.

Stiles sat them both back down, glad to see the sub looking much better (at least physically). He finally retreaved the small bag, and tipped is contents onto the blankets. There was a soft black roll of ribbon, and ten or so silver charms.

Derek swallowed, meeting Stiles eyes for the first time since he had attacked him. All he could see was genuine sincerity.

"You pick a charm, and I can wrap the ribbon around anywhere you want. Doesn't have to be your neck, wrists or whatever you aren't comfortable with, it just has to carry the meaning of a collar. We can discuss bounderies tomorrow because we are both tired so do you, Derek, accept my collar for the next six months?"

Derek looked down at the silver charms and gingerly picked up a delicate silver wolf. He stared at the tiny creature, then looked up at the Dom with a tiny, hesitant but beautiful smile.

"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly graphic descriptions of injuries. Signs of past abuse. Self victim shaming (Derek's ashamed of things he can't control)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aggahh I just watched avengers endgame and my heart aches TT~TT really light warnings for this one, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Xx

Stiles awoke suddenly, eyes finding his alarm clock in panic. It was five in the morning. A scream broke out, the same noise that had awoken him in the first place, and he jumped to his feet. Following the choked screams and quieter whimpers the Dom made his way to Derek's bedroom and burst through the door, rushing to the bed where the sub was thrashing around wildly. He grabbed hold of Derek's shoulders and found the man in a fretful sleep, face scrunched up in a grimace.

"Fuck." Stiles muttered, putting a hand against the crying sub's face, "Derek, wake up!"

The sensation of being touched sent him into an almost hysterical panic, eyes still glued shut, and he started to lash out with his hands. Stiles caught a hard shove to his stomach, but managed to restrain the flailing hands against the pillows. Derek struggled, eyes snapping open but very much still in a nightmare. He looked blindly up, and Stiles saw reality seep back into his face. They stared at eachother.

Derek was panting loudly, the occaisional whine escaping his throat. Frozen in place as he was, it took Stiles several minutes to release his grip on the man's wrists -and he felt sick when he saw the submissive subtly try to rub the ache from them.

"I'm sorry," the Dom's voice scratched his throat, and he carefully folded his arms together to avoid reaching out to touch the sub.

Looking up at him in shock, Derek have him an assessing look before quirking his mouth into a wry expression.

"It's okay, thank you," he rasped, sleep clinging to his voice.

Only then did Stiles realise what situation he was in; leaning over the man with concern written on his face - slightly too close for comfort. He leaned back suddenly, face flaming.

"Well I don't know about you but I'm not gonna be able to sleep now, breakfast?" He smiled, hand scratching the back of his neck.

Derek nodded, slipping out of his bed. The wolf charm wrapped loosely around his wrist glinted in a sliver of morning sun.

 

After coffee and a large cooked breakfast they were sat on the couch, Stiles reading on his phone and Derek still halfway through his meal. Every couple of bites, the sub stopped eating and looked warily at Stiles until the Dom noticed. Stiles then had to smile back and nod, and Derek would continue to eat. It was a long - and painful - process.

Finally they were both done, and awake. Taking his notebook off the table and staring intently at Derek for a moment, Stiles readied himself.

"So, boundaries," the Dom started, his serious expression looking out of place amongst his bed hair and pajamas. "I use the traffic light system, red for stop, yellow for slow down and green for Keep going."

Derek nodded in return, but blinked in surprise when Stiles shook his head and took one of his hands.

"I need you to verbally consent to this," he pressed, watching the sub shift uncomfortably.

"Yes, that's fine." Derek growled, glare firmly planted on his face.

Stiles beamed, patting the hand he was holding before continuing.

"Great, now I'm going to list the basics that could make up our relationship. You have to say the ones that you won't be able to do. These are all optional except the rules. Okay?"

Derek looked like he wasn't going to respond, but after a dramatic pause with Stiles's eyebrows slowly raising higher on his forehead, he gritted out "that's fine."

"Bondage?"

"No."

"Humiliation?"

"No."

"Cuddling?"

Derek paused, frowning at the ground, "okay."

"Hair petting?"

"...fine."

"Physical punishment?"

"No."

"Including spanking?"

"...I don't know."

"Kneeling?"

"Yes."

"Public kneeling?"

"No."

"Pet names?"

"No."

 

Stiles was scribbling everything down in his notepad, other hand tapping his leg at the same time. He went through other generic kinks, until finally he leaned back and put down his pen. Derek looked uncomfortable, but not upset, so Stiles continued.

"Rules, these are gonna be pretty simple but if you break them on purpose this isn't going to work. Firstly, no hurting yourself or others. Tell me when something is wrong. Do not hide any problems. Never lie to me. And most importantly, if I haven't noticed you need to be Dropped, you need to tell me," the Dom looked at Derek with wide eyes, complete sincerity on his face, "got that?"

Derek scowled at him, cheeks flaming, and hissed out "okay."

"Great!" Stiles stood, clapping his hands and making them both jump in their seats.

He turned to say something but was interrupted by a loud knock. Him and Derek shared a wary glance, before Stiles edged over to the door and looked through the peephole. There was a pause, and then the Dom opened the door with a grin and was immediately scooped up in a hug with two other men. Derek jumped up in alarm and stumbled backwards into the corner of the room behind the couch.

Stiles smiled widely at Scott when he let him go, continuing to hold Isaac when the sub clutched at him.

"Hey dude! We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd drop in!" Scott said, smiling just as widely in return,"whoa what happened to your eye?"

Isaac finally let go of the Dom with a chuckle, a smirk already on his face to hide the moment of vulnerability.

"Hi Stiles, you weren't busy were you?" The submissive questions, eyes bright with mirth.

"Well, I was just - Derek?" Stiles paused in concern when he turned to face the living room only to see Derek curled up in the corner taking unsteady breaths.

The Dom rushed over, leaving isaac and Scott at the door. He took the submissives head in his hands and tilted his face to look him in the eyes. They were wide with fear and panic.

"Whats wrong? What happened?" Stiles stressed, hands both going to rest on Derek's shoulders.

Derek took deep breaths, a frown pressing down on his brow, and lifted his shaking hands to hold tight onto the Dom's arms. They crouched like that for a couple seconds while he calmed down, eyes locked.

Eventually the sub pulled away, cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment and - much to Stiles's dismay - shame.

"Sorry, I don't know what happened." He growled, crossing his arms over his chest with a grimace.

"Hey, it's okay," the Dom smiled gently, keeping a hand on Derek's shoulder, "I was just saying hi to my good friends, wanna meet them?"

"Fine." The sub muttered, scowl intensifying as he shrugged off Stiles's hand and walked around him and out of the corner until he had a proper view of the two other men.

Scott attempted to smile at the unfamiliar submissive, while Isaac outright gawped at him. Derek's mood soured even further when he realised what a horrible state he must be in. His wounds are bandaged, but there are still bruises on his skin and his hair is still terribly matted - with a thick beard to match. For most of the time he had been clean shaven, but two months alone had let it grow back.

"Stiles, whose your ... Friend?" Isaac asked judgementaly, allowing sarcasm to seep into his voice.

Stiles frowned at the other sub, to the point where Isaacs smirk started to fade.

"This is Derek, he is the assigned submissive i am currently caring for," he said, watching all amusement fall from Isaacs face.

Derek curled in on himself where he stood, mind repeating the teasing smirk on the other man's face. Clearly he was embarassing Stiles in front of his friends. He needed to go.

"I'm gonna, go make some tea. It was nice to meet you," his voice wobbled dangerously at the end as Derek rushed out the room to the kitchen.

Stiles sharply turned to Isaac and hissed, "what the fuck dude?!"

The sub in question shrank back, Scott putting his arm around his shoulder for comfort.

"I'm sorry I didn't know!" Isaac whimpered under his glare, and Scott deliberately stood forward and in front of the sub.

"He didn't realise, calm down Stiles." The other Dom stated evenly, but his arm visibly tightened around his sub.

The anger drained out of Stiles, and he rubbed his face wearily.

"I'm sorry Izzy, I'm just stressed," he sighed, lightly petting Isaac's curls before sitting down on the couch with a thump. Scott sat down beside him immediately, leaning against the Dom with a smile, and the submissive followed his lead and sat on the other side of Stiles.

Scott grinned, "so, a new submissive? What's he like?"

Stiles grinned in such a way that it had the other two sharing a concerned look - this couldn't be good.

"He's... Sweet. And grumpy. And he kind of has a prickly way of dealing with things, but he has kind eyes. I don't know, something about him is just-"

"Broken." Derek cut in from the now open doorway, a cup of tea clasped in his hands.

The man had a false indifference on his face, every feature including his eyes shut off to leave a cold shell. Isaac tensed at the word, waiting for Stiles's inevitable reaction. The Dom stood suddenly, a frown on his face.

"No, no you're not." Stiles spoke lowly, the faintest edge to his voice.

Derek didn't look at anyone, but his body tensed in anticipation. He lifted his head and his eyes flashed with anger, like a flame had been ignited within him

"Fuck you!" He spat, " you think you can just discuss me and my fucking life to others!? You take in broken submissives who are too pathetic to bend over anymore and teach them how to be bitches!"

There was a deathly silence, with Derek's rapid breaths being the only sound. Stiles was looking at him with unreadable eyes. The Dom stepped closer, and the submissive noticed for the first time that Stiles was taller than him.

"Derek, come with me," the Dom said quietly, dangerously, and Derek froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek has bad nightmares and says offensive things about submissives. There's kink and bounderie discussion also!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! I have a sprained wrist so I've been a bit slower this time but I hope you like it XX
> 
> Mild warnings in end notes ~~

"Wait, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," the sub babbled, holding up his trembling hands. "Please, I'm sorry!"

Stiles stepped closer, brow creased in concern, but he stopped when Derek flinched back.

"RED, please, red!" The sub sobbed, and all the occupants in the room held their breaths.

Scott stood up and led Isaac out the room, both of them sending shocked looks to Stiles as they leave. The Dom stood in place helplessly, a lost expression in his face.

"Derek, it's okay, I'm not going to do anything I promise," Stiles whispered, feeling tears of his own well up in his eyes.

Derek started sobbing and he fell to his knees, looking away from the Dom in shame. He felt like he was shattering on the ground, the unstable fraying in his chest and the white hot terror that was flashing his eyes tipping him just over the edge of a panic attack before pulling him back. There were hundreds of fingers pressing into his skin, and he wanted to throw up.

Stiles wracked his brain, trying to think of his past submissives. They had safeworded before -of course they had - but he always knew what to do because he was Domming them at the time. Wait. He looked at Derek. The man was crumpled to his knees, eyes adverted, with shame and fear etched into the lines of his face. One of the bandages on his arm had frayed and he was unconsciously tugging at it with his other hand. He looked terrified. He looked miserable. But most of all he looked ... Submissive.

The Dom swore to himself in surprise, he had unknowingly been scening with Derek the whole time. The sub had already fallen into a warped, nightmare version of subspace. And now he was dropping.

Stiles widened his stance and steeled his expression. No matter what, it would be a shock to his system to become Dominant so quickly - but he couldn't even imagine what Derek must be going through.

"Derek." His voice didn't waver, and the firmness of it made the sub pause and look up, " hands by your sides."

Derek dropped his hands to hang by his sides, eyes red and swollen from crying. The man looked at Stiles in confusion, a lock of clumped hair falling in front of his left eye.

"That's great, thank you," Stiles smiled as genuinely as he could and was thrilled when Derek flushed at the praise. " You safeworded. You know what that means right?"

At that Derek slumped, a frown returning to his face as he muttered "not supposed to, it's bad."

"What? No it isn't!" Stiles slipped out of his dominant mind in shock for a moment - he needed a serious talk with Derek about this later - before firmly setting himself back into his space. " You did so good, safewording means just that - you are safe. I'm not going to hurt you, or do anything you don't want. I , I just want to look after you."

Derek shyly looked at Stiles feet to avoid the raw honesty in the man's face. The Dom crouched down and, after a hesitant look at the other man, took one of Derek's hands.

"I'm going to look after you, and right now you need aftercare. This is a crucial part of my work with submissives, and I have been told by good authority that my aftercare is supurb." Stiles let a toothy grin stretch across his face and got a twitch of Derek's lips in return - an almost smile.

"So, are you okay with some intense cuddling and pampering for a while? We can go to your room?" The Dom wiggled his eyebrows questionably, getting a huff of exasperation from the other man.

"Sure," the sub mumbled, his bandaged hand squeezing Stiles's.

"Great, go up to your room, I'll be right there," at his words, Derek stood - like it was a relief to obey - and left to go to his room up the stairs.

 

Once Derek had left Stiles straightened, and tiredly walked into the kitchen. Isaac and Scott were sitting at the breakfast bar whispering to eachother, but Stiles walked past them and started grabbing things:

\- A bar of chocolate  
\- Apple slices  
\- Orange juice   
\- A bottle of water  
There was a rolled up soft blanket in a side cupboard that he grabbed too, before turning to the other two in the room.

"Guys, you need to go, I'll call you later," he stated, watching the two frown in response.

"But we always stay here," Scott insisted, puppy eyes starting to appear.

"Why do we have to go?" Isaac snarked, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles sucked in a breath and slowly exhaled through his nose, frustration building.

" Remember when I first brought you here?" He growled.

Isaac glared at him, "of course I do."

"You didn't want to be around anyone, barely even me, for weeks. Why can't you understand that this is happening for Derek?" Stiles asked, at a loss.

Isaac crossed his arms in front of his chest in defiance, " well he just doesn't seem... Really like a -"

"We have talked about these stereotypes! Anyone can be a submissive and you know it!" The Dom exploded, red with anger. " Awful, abusive people spread those rumors and I know that you know they arn't true."

Isaac tugged on Scott's sleeve, " c'mon, let's go," he muttered with a frown.

Scott automatically started to leave with his sub, but he pauses when they walked past Stiles. Before Stiles could react the other Dom pulled him into a bear hug, feeling them both relax at the contact. When he pulled back Scott smiled at him and made a face.

"I'll talk to him," Scott reassured with an eye roll.

Stiles smiled in thanks and Scott left to catch up with Isaac. The front door slotted shut.

 

When Stiles got upstairs he was in full provide mode, his bounty of supplies in his arms and a strained smile on his face. Derek was laying curled up in his bed with his blanket and quilt wrapped around him, eyes alert but face showing clear sleep withdrawal. The Dom deposited his supplies on the desk and slipped onto bed with the sub, his body above the blankets to give Derek a barrier between them.

"Hey," Stiles smiled at Derek, the soft dim light of the room illuminating his eyes.

Derek looked at him for a solid ten seconds before curling close to the Dom and wrapping his arms around him. Stiles blinked in surprise into the head of hear that had been tucked into his neck, feeling Derek's nose against his skin.

Stiles reached over the bed and grabbed the chocolate, breaking off a piece.

"Could you eat this please?" Stiles whispered, and made an encouraging sound when Derek moved just enough to look at it.

The sub warily had a bite, his eyes going wide, and then he ate the whole piece. Stiles chuckled, feeding him fruit and chocolate alternately.

They fell asleep like that, in the mid afternoon as the sun shone through the windows, and for the first time in a year Derek didn't dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safe words, prejudice against certain submissive types, panic attacks (kind of)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm finally back! I sprained my wrist so I've been in a lot of pain while trying to write. 😅 Anyway, hope you like this chapter, warnings are in the end notes!

Derek blinked awake, the sun setting through the window and filling the room with a deep red glow. He took account of his surroundings, the warm body next to him, and his own body, before he could slip out from under his blankets. He padded out the room and down the hall to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

It was evening, but he was wide awake. The sub looked around the bathroom with a detached gaze, taking in the minute cracks in the sink. The floor was set with tiles, an ugly ceramic orange, and there was a lone cactus propped against the window. He opened a new packet of toothbrushes and spent a good ten minutes methodically cleaning his mouth, but once he was done he just stood there - lost.

Derek frowned, he wanted a shower again but then he would have to change his bandages. He just needed to do something. As he thought that, a stray lock of hair wavered Infront of his face and he paused.

There were scissors in the bathroom cabinet, a brush too, and he soon got to work at hacking the matted mess of hair on his head into submission.

 

Sheriff Stilinski had seen a lot of things; abuse, neglect, starvation and all the mistreatment under the sun. But this submissive that was curled up in a hospital bed was one of the worst. He was older than Derek had been - but the extreme level of malnourishment had worn the flesh off his bones to a sickly extreme.

There had been no collar around his throat, but the chains attached to his ankles had rubbed down to the bone. John looked down on the man's face. Now he was asleep, and not screaming in upset, he could see soft wrinkles around the subs eyes and forehead - not a laughline to be seen. He had sandy blonde hair and light stubble, apparently having been kept in a much better state than Derek's.

For the few moments of calm the sub had while awake, all anyone could get out of him was that he needed to "protect" Derek. John shook his head and pulled the man's blanket to his chin, sighing to himself "you aren't in a state to protect anyone right now."

He left with a determined set to his eyebrows, nodding to the two police officers gaurding the hospital room. After all, argent was still on the run.

 

Sweeping up the hair off the floor with his hands, Derek startled at the sound of the doorbell. He swore to himself, considering ignoring it, but heard Stiles stumble out of his room and down the stairs. Continuing to clean, Derek felt a wave of nausea rise at the thought that the other submissive might have returned. That submissive. The hate and doubt and ... Disgust in his eyes made Derek want to curl up and die. It felt all too familiar.

 

"What's the matter sweetie? Don't want to play anymore?" Her voice was like glass, shredding through his skin and leaving him defenseless.

Derek whined through the gag in his mouth, spit dribbling down his chin and tears falling from his eyes. Kate looked at him with a sneer and turned away sharply, looking through one of her "toolboxes" until she found something she liked. At the sight of the pliers in her hand Derek uselessly struggled against the wire fence he was chained to, arms throbbing from where they were suspended above his head.

The other sub, who wasn't chained up, rushed to Kate's side with a concerned frown.

"You don't really want to do that, do you? You hate when his wounds don't heal properly - that's gonna leave a mark for months," the older man babbled, deep voice scratchy with misuse.

Kate looked at him with a considering face, enough attention taken away from Derek for him to slump in relief. He sent a grateful look at the sub and tried to keep his breathing in check. Blood ran down his torso from a whelt that stretched across his collarbone and Derek reveled in the sensation, something to tie him to reality.

"Fine, I guess you're right." Kate looked at the other sub with a grimace, and put the pliers back. "What should I do then?" She smirked, watching Derek gulp out the corner of her eye.

"That's up to you, I don't care," the older man feined nonchalance with a flick of his hand.

Kate let out a throaty laugh, "you never did care about my toys, even now," she glanced at the man's shakled ankles with a wince, smile fading. "I'm getting some food, do you want any?" Something that was almost emotion flickered across her face when the sub shook his head.

"You know I'm not allowed, go get some yourself, why don't I clean up your toy for you?" The man scratched his stubble indifferently, a bored look in his crystal blue eyes.

Kate sighed with a troubled frown, leaving the basement while muttering profanities about someone who Derek didn't recognise.

When she had gone, the other sub rushed to Derek's side and unlocked the cuffs around his wrists, buckling under the man's weight when he helplessly fell forward.

"Okay, easy does it," the older man huffed with a watery chuckle.

He half carried, half dragged Derek to their mattress and sat down on the dingy fabric with a grimace. Derek was panting from exhaustion, and as soon as they sat down he fell forward and rested his head in the other mans lap, wrapping his arms around him with a whimper. The older sub slipped a hand in his matted hair and sighed.

"You did great, you're such a good boy," the man whispered, eyes welling up.

Finally recieving praise lifted some of the weight from Derek's shoulders, but it wasn't the same. He needed a Dom. Not a phycopath or an imprisoned submissive. That thought was the one that tipped him over the edge, the deep cuts on his torso feeling like fire in his skin, and he started to cry. The other man looked around in panic at the sound, hands frantic on Derek's body.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, making a pained face at the subs distress.

He reached over and grabbed the damp cloth they used for washing, gently turning the submissive and washing the thick blood clots off his chest. Derek clung to him miserably, biting down on his gag. The older man uselessly attempted to untie the gag but the knot was too tight, cutting into Derek's mouth like knives. He hissed in frustration and swore, but calmed when Derek patted his cheek in forgiveness. Suddenly the basement door slammed open and Kate sauntered down the steps, only hesitating for a second when she saw the position Derek was in.

"Did he ask for affection? You could have just said no, he's a fucking pussy," she grinned maliciously, sitting on a metal chair with a plate of sandwiches in her hand.

The older man subtly took his hands off of Derek.

"He was upset, I don't like sharing a bed with whiny bitches," he deadpanned, making an annoyed face at the sub who was currently clinging to his lap.

Kate's eyes, icy blue and perceptive, followed his gaze, " move him then."

The older man paused, frowning, "what-"

"Did I stutter?" Kate hissed, her face caught in the look she gets when her facade of sanity unravels.

Fixing his expression into indifference once again, the older sub pushed Derek upright and shoves him away. Derek shakes himself out of the terrified half subspace he'd been in all day and looks around in shock. He sees the other sub next to him and frowns in a hurt question, before seeing the Dom sitting a few feet away from them with a smirk. Instantly his posture straightened and his head bowed.

Kate handed a sandwich to the older submissive.

"Kate, you know I can't," he started to insist.

"Shut up and eat it!" She growled, "it's your fault you're in this mess! This all could have been avoided if you'd left!"

"I wasn't going to run away," the sub thundered, outright glaring at her.

"You should have! We wouldn't have looked for you! Your pride isn't important when you're stuck here!" The Dom stood up, dropping her plate and letting it shatter to the ground.

She turned sharply and dragged Derek up by the collar around his neck, holding him in place as he gasped for air. The older man stood up aswell, hands fisted at his sides.

"What are you doing?" He asks urgently, making an aborted movement towards Derek.

Kate smiled manically, dragging Derek along to the stairs, "this, " she shook him violently by his collar, "is mine. And I feel like having some stress relief."

She stormed up the stairs, Derek's collar tight in her fist. The sub whimpered into his gag, eyes locking with the other man's. The other sub stared into his eyes with calm strength, even when Kate started to push the door closed behind them. He stood at the bottom of the stairs after it had slammed in his face. Derek knew he did because every time he returned to the basement the man was still there with barely conceived rage on his face, hands ready to catch him when he crumpled to the ground.

 

"Derek?"

The sub startled at the sound of his name, looking up to see Stiles in the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows when the Dom paused, watching his eyes stare at his head with shock.

"... Wow, so, you cut your hair. It looks nice," Stiles stumbled, before shaking his head and continuing, "anyway, my dad - the sheriff - is here to ask you some questions about the other person in the basement."

Derek's eyes widened, and he rushed past Stiles and down the stairs until he found the sheriff in the living room. The man in question stood when he entered the room and gave him half a smile.

"Is he okay? What happened?" The sub asked in a rush, concern clear on his face.

"He's fine, he's in hospital at the moment since he's very underweight. Could you sit down Derek? I have a couple questions." John gestured to the couch with his hand, sitting as he does so.

Derek hesitantly sat beside him, glancing up when Stiles entered the room. Stiles nodded reassuringly and stood next to the couch, resting a hand on the subs shoulder.

"Okay, so you and the other submissive were ... Close? Am I correct?" The sheriff started, catching Derek off gaurd.

Derek shifted in his seat, " yes."

John raised an eyebrow at the short answer.

"We protected eachother. But it was mostly him protecting me." The sub gritted out like every word was painful.

"What do you mean?" John asked calmly, his hand scrawling across his little notebook as he spoke.

"Well. Kate, didn't really do anything to him. Sometimes she treated him like he was just ... A person. Like she wasn't keeping him locked up. " Derek's voice got more and more monotone as he went, his face like stone.

The sheriff frowned, " but she didn't feed him?"

"No. He wasn't allowed food most of the time... But Kate didn't not let him. It was someone else's orders." The sub explained, hang going up to rest on top of the Dom's.

Stiles smiled at the contact but then he frowned in confusion, " who's orders?"

Derek shrugged, " they called him old man a couple times but I don't know who he was."

John scowled, "so, why was this submissive so terrified when we raided the basement? If he was your protector?"

Derek growled, "something had happened beforehand. He wouldn't tell me, but he was different. And then Kate didn't come back for a while. There wasn't any food, so while I got angrier he got weaker. We were both terrified, but he was worse. That had been when I started protecting him. He wasn't like that before."

Stiles looked at the sub in shock, that was the most words he had heard come out of his mouth so far.

"We keep refering to him as 'the other submissive' but who is he?" Stiles asked , looking at the sheriff in confusion.

"I never learnt his name." Derek mumbled, looking at the ground miserably.

John sighed, "I don't know either, but why don't we go ask?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood, pain, hurt and comfort, there's a really vague rape implication , nothing too graphic.
> 
> Who do you think the submissive is!??
> 
> (Du du duuuuhhh)
> 
>  
> 
> Xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh hope you like it I'm so sorry I've been really busy :''(  
> Very light warnings in the end notes.  
> Xx

The hospital room was glowing with the orange sunset, but Derek couldn't take the time to look at it. His eyes were stuck on the face of the man he had spent the last year trapped with. His cheeks were gaunt and his head was bandaged, but it was him.

 

"I can't do this anymore," he sobbed into Derek's shoulder, voice shredded and harsh shudders wracking his body.

They held on for dear life, Derek pressed against the corner and the submissive curled into his lap. He doesn't remember him being this small, this fragile.

Derek clutched him to his chest, fierce gaze fixated on the opposite wall, and whispered to him with a shaking voice.

"We're gonna be fine."

"It's okay."

"I'm gonna get us out."

"It's okay, please don't cry."

"It's okay."

 

Stiles placed a hand on Derek's shoulder, glancing behind him at his dad and seeing the sheriff watching them grimly. The submissive gently shrugged off his hand and stepped up to the hospital bed, reaching out a hand to rest it on the sleeping man's forehead. The older man twitched at his touch, a frown covering his sleeping face.

"Hey, you awake?" Derek's voice wobbled dangerously at the end, using his over hand to nudge the submissives shoulder.

There was silence, before the man's eyes snapped open and his hand grabbed Derek's throat in an iron grip. Derek felt the wounds on his throat flare in pain, and he made a broken choke of surprise before firmly pushing the man's hands away from his neck. The submissive cried out, blindly twisting around, and stiles and John made aborted movements towards them.

Derek held the man's arms against his chest and leans over him, "hey, hey its me, it's Derek."

The submissive was gasping, but his eyes slowly cleared and his body relaxed. Stark blue eyes stared intently at him before they flashed with recognition. He let out a small sob and pulled his hands away from his chest to tug Derek into his arms.

"Fuck, I'm so glad you're okay," the submissive laughed wetly, breifly pulling back so that Derek could climb into the hospital bed with him.

Stiles smiled at his sub reassuringly, Derek nodding back slightly before burying his head in the older man's side. His smile dimmed slightly when he saw the other submissive glaring at him. There was a tense silence. The sheriff took that moment to drag a chair forward and sit beside the bed with an expectant expression on his face, which made even Stiles wary.

"Will you answer my questions now?" John raised an eyebrow in challenge.

The submissive nodded grimly, and ran a hand through Derek's roughly cut hair.

"Derek has been reportedly missing for a year, how long were you with him?"

"Eleven months," the man spoke with a strange mixture of certainty and hesitance.

"How can you be so exact?" John frowned.

"She liked to brag," Derek's voice muffled from the submissives side, and Stiles felt his hand twitch with the need to touch him.

"Also, I was allowed to wonder the house so I could see the calendar," his voice slowly got steadier with each word, as if he was steeling himself.

"Derek hasn't told us anything about his time there, do you have anything to tell me?" The sheriff forced his voice to be casual, despite the angry twitch of his eye.

"I... Didn't really have the same experience as Derek. We served different purposes. I was trapped for a different reason, Derek was just a play toy." The sub let his voice slip into indifference, despite Derek's flinch at his words.

The subs cold gaze was focused on Stiles, and he raised an eyebrow at the Dom in challenge. Stiles glared in fury, making an aborted step towards him. The submissive smirked and held Derek closer.

"It's there something going on here? Why is this other Dominant present?" He asked, frowning at John in question.

The sheriff went to answer but was interrupted by an indignant Stiles, " I am Derek's Dom! I have to be here to make sure he's alright!"

The sub frowned harder, "Kate is Derek's Dominant."

Derek stiffened, moving away from the other sub on the bed and holding one of his bony hands in both of his.

"Kate abused me, she abused both of us. She is not my dominant and she never will be," he said softly but firmly.

"Why don't we go to something simpler?" John suggested lightly, giving Stiles a look which made the Dom visibly rein himself in. " What's your name?"

The sub glanced at Derek, a half frown on his face, and muttered "Chris Argent."

The room was ice cold and thick with tension, and Derek pushed himself of the hospital bed like it had burnt him. His breaths came out in gasps , and he backed willingly into Stiles's arms.

"What?" Derek choked out.

Chris, face contorted in a grimace, sat fully up in the bed and tried to reach for the other sub with a thin hand but Derek flinched back.

"Derek, it doesn't mean anything, she was just-"

"She was just what?" Derek spat at him, and for a moment Stiles saw the Derek he had seen at the station - angry and feirce and terrified. "She was a fucking sadistic kidnapper! She starved you!"

Chris was already shaking his head, frustration evident on his face, " no it wasn't her choice! Our father made her keep me she was just doing what he said."

"She fucking raped me! Is that what her father told her to do?! She spent a year destroying me and you think it was all because her piece of shit parent said so?? Are you delusional!?" The subs voice cracked and stuttered with raw emotion.

Stiles and John looked at eachother in alarm at his words, both preparing to intervene.

"She was just following orders she's not like that !" Chris roared, shaking with shock.

"What about the last month we were there, huh? What about when you turned into a trembling mess on the floor? Did she do nothing wrong then?" Derek hissed, pressed against the bed with murder in his eyes.

Chris trembled and tears welled up in his pale, manic eyes. John stepped forward and lightly turned the sub's head to face him, offering a faint smile of reassurance despite the hardness of his eyes. Looking at the man's face, Chris felt his own crumble and he fell into the sheriff's shoulder with a harsh sob.

Stiles gripped Derek's arm a little tighter than nessesary and pulled him out the room, shutting the door behind him with a relieved sigh. The Dom continued to pull him to his car, and they sat in silence the drive home.

 

Derek was lying on the couch, faced down and immobile when Stiles got out of the shower. His hair was still damp and his hastily pulled on clothes clashed terribly. The Dom stood in the doorway of the living room with concern rolling off of him in waves, eyes not leaving the submissive stretched out before him.

"Stiles?" His voice was muted in the pillow, but the Dom heard him and hummed in question. "Yknow that I'm your submissive right now?"

"Yeah?" Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"Well I think i need to be... Dommed... Now," the sub raised his head enough to look Stiles in the eyes.

Frozen in place, Stiles stared back while possibilities ran though his head and adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Derek took his silence for hesitance, flinching back slightly but not giving in, "please?"

Stiles surged forwards with confident steps until he reached the lying down sub, resting a firm hand on the back of his neck, just above the bandages.

"I thought you'd never ask, I have one question for you, safewords?"

Derek twisted his head to look at Stiles and whispered, "green, yellow, red?"

Stiles beamed, "good boy."

There was a pause, and then Derek's entire body seemed to melt against the couch - a deep sigh leaving his mouth. The Dom gave him another, softer, smile and trailed his hand to Derek's wrist where the silver wolf rested. He touched the wolf lightly, before straightening up and looking down at the sub expectantly.

"Kneel for me," his voice was rougher and deeper but Derek could still see the pleased glint in his eyes and willingly slid off the couch onto the floor

Slowly sitting on the couch beside the submissive, Stiles grabbed a throw pillow and held it in front of Derek. The sub looked at him in confusion.

"For your knees," Stiles nodded, hating how honestly surprised Derek looked at the small act of kindness.

After shifting onto the pillow Derek arched his back and held his hands in his lap, eyes fixed onto the floor.

"That's... quite a fancy kneeling technique you have there," Stiles blinked, resting his hand on the submissives messily shorn hair.

Derek twitched, a flush raising on his pale cheeks, "am I not pleasing you? This is the preferred technique of-" he cut off awkwardly, managing to curl into himself without moving.

Stiles forced concern out of his face, leaning closer to the submissive and framing his face with his hands. Derek stared steadfastly at the floor, avoiding his gaze.

"Derek, this whole scene is going to be for you. This is to make you feel better, so I'd like you to be comfortable before I put you in your space," the Dom smiled kindly, stroking his thumbs across the messily cut stubble on his cheeks.

Derek locked hazel eyes with his - searching. Then he released a sigh, straightened his back and released his hands. Stiles grinned.

"Great, that looks much better. Now, I want you to rest your head on my knee and feel my hand in your hair. Is that okay?"

Derek blinked at him, asking in a small voice, " is that all?"

"Yep!" The Dom winked at him, leaned back and kept one hand running through Derek's hair.

The sub lightly rested his head against Stiles's knee and closed his eyes, feeling fingernails lightly scratch against his scalp.

"Good boy."

Derek smiled, ever so faintly, and let himself float.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris refers to Derek as Basically an object, he implies that Kate didn't abuse them, fun stuff like that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long I'm really sorry I'm going through some stuff right now so I'm pretty miserable. Hope you like it anyway, this is some flashback/past for Derek! If abuse or manipulation upsets you then you can skip this chapter !  
> Long warning in end notes. Long warning.  
> Xx

Kate had whirled into his life like fire, bright and beautiful with a hint of danger. On the corner of a street there stood a small and unassuming coffeeshop, and Derek loved it for its lack of crowds and simple menus. He went there every week to the point where the locals nodded at him and the staff knew his order. It had been a miserable day, the usual Californian weather replaced by harsh rain.

Derek was engrossed in his book, one hand turning the pages while the other was clasped protectively over his tea. Slowly but surely, the coffee shop filled with sodden, weary customers trying to escape from the rain. The shop was filled to its full capacity, and Derek reached into his satchel to get his headphones and drown them out.

"Is this seat taken?" A feminine voice simpered above him.

The man looked up with half a scowl, but it fell from his face in shock. The woman before him was - for lack of other words - absolutely stunning. She had a soft smile and bright blue eyes, long curls of sandy blonde hair stuffed beneath a woollen hat and the kindest face he's ever seen on a stranger. Derek felt his cheeks light up, but managed to stutter out, "of course go ahead."

"Thank you sweetie," she beamed and left with the chair, leaving Derek's stomach twisting giddily at her words.

 

From then on the woman was a frequent sight in his life, having now made the coffee shop her regular. Derek did his best to ignore her but he couldn't help sneaking a glance or two at her with longing in his eyes. But he was happy to leave it, to just watch from a distance.

One afternoon, when the shop was mostly empty, she sat down beside Derek with the same confident grin and looked at his book expectedly. Derek glared.

"What you reading?" She grinned with bright pink lips, clasping her hands over her coffee cup.

"Nothing," the submissive growled under his breath.

A tanned, manicured hand reached over and pulled the book from his grip before Derek could sheild it - leaving the man to shrink into his chair with bright red cheeks.

"I love Romeo and Juliet! So romantic!" The woman let out an unattractive gasp and turned to Derek with bright eyes, "you're a submissive, right?"

Derek felt his eyes bulge from his face, embarrassment radiating from every pore when the other customers in the cage turn towards the commotion. He snatched his book back.

"Says who? I don't appreciate being shoved into a stereotype because I'm reading a classic piece of literature! Get lost," he spat.

The woman froze in shock, smile stony on her face, before she got up from her chair. Before walking away, she suddenly leaned down and spoke softly in his ear.

"I do not agree with such... Barbaric stereotypes. It was simply a guess, a way to make conversation, maybe even to try and get to know you better. I must say, I'm very disappointed that you reacted this rashly."

She was out the door in seconds but Derek couldn't bare the sudden knot of guilt that sat in his stomach. How does he always skrew things up so quickly, he berates himself. Before he knew what was happening he was rushing out the door too, book left lying on his table.

Already having reached the end of the street, the woman turned in shock at the sound of Derek calling out as he catches up to her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a bit... Defensive. maybe could talk again, perhaps if I give you my number?" He huffs, out of breathe and embarrassed.

A slow smile stretched across her face," sure, sweetie, my name is Kate. How about we meet again?"

 

Their first date was in the fancy part of town, in a restaurant too expensive for Derek's taste. He arrived at her house, flowers in his hand, and waited at the door for her. The house was cool and grey, surrounded by land with a distinct lack of neighbors. Kate revealed herself and Derek's throat went dry. She had her dirty blonde hair curled to perfection, her face was immaculately painted and her slender frame was wrapped in a deep red dress. Her eyes roamed over his body with hunger, like a lioness admiring her prey.

The Dom stepped up to Derek and kissed him hello, laughing when his cheeks went pink beneath his stubble. She took the flowers with a beaming smile, and they left to arrive at the restaurant.

Kate ordered for him, but he didn't notice. Her presence radiated power and beauty, her voice clear and soft, her eyes seemed to capture a cold winter mornings stark blue sky. She was perfect.

 

The first time they had sex was after their fourth date, and it was hurried and fumbling. Filled with awkward pauses and nervous touches - and when it was over Kate had to leave to go to work.

Derek layed in bed for an hour after she left, wondering why he felt so numb.

 

They hadn't discussed their dynamics very much before, but it seemed the natural progression of their relationship. Derek became her submissive, started wearing the collar she presented him. It was a thin, hard strip of leather, with red stitches and a tag. He didn't find it very comfortable, and the tag reminded him of a dog collar, but it was his and he loved it nevertheless. No rules were spoken of, no limits or boundaries or punishments. The sub sometimes wondered if that was a good thing or not, but it didn't bother him.

 

Derek didnt remember what he had done wrong, but he remembered his first punishment like it was burned into his brain. Kate's face had darkened into a cold scowl, one that made him sick to look at. They were at her house, she didn't like his apartment, and for the first time Derek didn't like how far away it was from the city. He didn't like the silence.

Shame scratched at his throat, like knives scraping his insides, while Kate explained how angry she was - how disappointed - and Derek couldn't bare the feeling of letting her down. The Dom had dragged him down to the basement, somewhere he had never been before, and instructed he lay across her lap on the couch. Filled with a miniature kitchen and some storage, the basement was a comfy and functional room. Derek knew he would learn to hate it - even at that moment.

She had used her hand, spanking him like he knew Dominants were supposed to during punishments. He was fine, distressed and ashamed, but fine. But then she opened her mouth. And it was her words that ruined him.

"So fucking pathetic, where is your spirit? I've never seen a dicked sub as weak as you!"

"You better not cry, do you think I'm enjoying this? This is vanilla shit, I thought you'd be tougher than that."

"For someone so big you sure are a sad waste of space, sniveling from getting your ass beat! Don't pretend you arn't a slut for this."

When it was over Derek had let out a sob of relief, reaching for his Dom with a shaking hand. He had never had an official Dominant before her but he remembered sex ed from school and knew about aftercare. Kate looked down at him with a look of detached disgust, and calmly left the basement.

Derek had left for a whole month after that, and hadn't tried to see her.

 

The first time Kate had begged for his forgiveness had been on Derek's doorstep, she was wearing sweatpants and her hair was a mess. There was mascara running down her face. She told him about her struggles at work, her problems with her family, how new she was to a relationship with a submissive. By the end she was in Derek's arms crying into his shoulder, the submissive stroking her back in comfort.

She never actually told him what had been going on at work, or what problems she had with her family, but Derek believed her - and didn't think about it any longer.

 

They had been together five months, and Derek finally introduced her to his friends. They were having dinner at Kate's house, and Kate was charming them both with a wide smile - her hand resting on Derek's thigh as she spoke. Erica and Boyd were a sweet couple, both equally as fierce but in different ways. Recently they had been seeing a Dominant to help them deal with Erica's epilepsy, and after telling Derek Boyd had pulled him aside with a concerned crease in his brow.

"Listen, I know you don't like talking about this, but I still remember when you called me about her. How she made you cry? I think you should try this guy out with her. He's a great teacher - Kate might learn something from him." Boyd had explained softly, handing over the business card of "Mieczyslaw Stilinski".

Derek didn't respond, his heart was in his throat at the idea of telling Kate that she needs to change. After a disappointed sigh, Boyd patted his shoulder and headed back to Erica.

 

They had been together eight months. Kate didn't like his friends very much, and since he worked from home it wasn't very long until he was isolated from everyone but her. Derek didn't mind though, Kate was the love of his life and despite their problems he knew he had found his soulmate. The business card burned in his hand, but he still took it out to look at when he was alone - like he was addicted to the hope it gave him.

 

She hated it when he left the house, thought that he was meeting other women or might get into trouble. Derek usually stayed inside but just this once he had needed to be amongst a crowd to remind himself that he was real.

The park in Beacon Hills was small but filled with people anyway, and he sat down on the bench with a deep rooted sigh.

She found him - of course. There was no build up, no pretence of spanking or punishment. She just hit him, until his lip was split and his cheek bled. Until all he could hear was a distant ring.

 

Finally he was leaving. Derek had decided, that on their one year anniversary he would calmly break up with Kate and they would go their separate ways. He had already packed his things in secret, and as he settled down to sleep with Kate beside him the sub breathed out a small relieved breath that he could finally put her behind him.

 

The sunlight hit Derek's closed eyes like a cold beam, forcing his mind into wakefulness. Slowly, with hesitant and tired movements, the submissive stretched out in bed and opened his eyes to peer up at the ceiling. He frowned. The ceiling above him was grey and cracked, with a blinding light fixture in the center. Sitting up suddenly and looking around, he felt his arms snap back against the wall and discovered two thick bands of metal on his wrists - chains leading them to the concrete wall behind him.

Panic and fear building, Derek looked around wildly. This was not the basement at Kate's house. It was dirty, and sparse, with a thick smell of rot and racks of tools lining the wall. He was on a dull mattress in the corner, chained too close to leave.

Panic finally boiling over into blind terror, the sub curled up and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's a few things so I'm gonna list them.  
> -abuse  
> -manipulation  
> -unegociated Dom sub relationship  
> -physical abuse  
> -kidnapping  
> -imprisonment


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was quick :D I really hope you like this chapter, comments are always appreciated!! There's a few warnings, and as always they will be at the end !

It was the third day of living with Stiles, and Derek woke in his bed feeling better than he had in a long time. The sub felt his eyes widen when he realised that the last night had been the first time he had been successfully put into subspace and then brought back up in years - and he felt amazing. The feeling faded slightly when he noticed the deep, constant ache that his injuries created, but it couldn't expel the plesent lightness in his chest.

Dragging himself up to sit against the headboard, Derek pressed his thumb over the wolf charm around his wrist absently. He reluctantly left his bed, hurrying through his bathroom routine before padding downstairs. Stiles was still asleep, and Derek wanted to cook for him.

He had always liked cooking, it was a great way to actually talk to people since Derek's skills in communication were severely lacking. He could just give them food, and they would talk about food, and he could demonstrate his appreciation without stuttering or growling. 

Searching the kitchen for supplies, Derek took in the decor with a wry smirk. The fairly outdated cabinets were filled with mismatched plates and novelty mugs, expired condiments and an assortment of the worst excuse for breakfast cereals that Derek had ever seen. The fridge was only slightly better off, as eggs and bacon and a few other essentials were in sight. But there was a distinct lack of anything green, and a depressingly large selection of energy drinks. Everything else in the kitchen was covered in post it notes, doodles and a few posters of characters Derek didn't recognize. 

He got to making breakfast - eggs, bacon and pancakes - with a serene sense of normality. But that calm was shattered when the doorbell rang out into the silence. Derek flinched at the noise, looking at his almost done bacon in dismay, before rushing to the door automatically and dragging it open.

"Stil- hey Derek," the man that he remembered as Scott smiled at him nervously, the submissive from before peeking around his broad shoulders. "Can we come in?"

Derek hesitated, eyes locked into the icy blue stare of the submissive, but luckily that was the point that a tired Stiles appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Hey, Scott and Isaac. What are you guys doing here?" He descended the stairs, voice sounding carefree but it had an edge to it that made Derek glance at him in confusion.

Derek left them to talk, saving the bacon and placing it next to the cooling pancakes before cracking some eggs in the pan. He started to get lost in watching the eggs fry when Stiles and the couple walked through into the kitchen. 

"Morning Derek, wow you didn't have to cook for me" Stiles grinned, his hand going to rest reassuringly on Derek's arm before he walked over to the breakfast bar beside the kitchen.

Scott and Isaac followed him, keeping a wide berth between them and Derek before sitting on the other stools. The older man simply turned back to his eggs, scowling down at them when he felt all three pairs of eyes on him. He looked back up.

"What?" Derek grouched, and he felt a moment of satisfaction when the couple shifted wearily in their seats.

"I - we - came to apologize for yesterday," Scott began, sincere dark eyes staring directly into Derek's hazel ones. "It was inappropriate to ask about you, and we also acted very rudely towards you for no reason. I am very sorry."

Derek felt his lip curl, "you didn't do much. What about him?" He scoffed, gesturing to the sulking submissive beside Scott.

Scott looked at Isaac, nodding towards Derek with a serious set to his mouth. Isaac looked away for a moment, and then met Derek's stare.

"I, I acted like a dick. And I'm really, really sorry. I have been in a similar situation as you and it would have, really fucking sucked if someone had treated me the way I acted when I met you. I'm sorry. " The curly haired submissive stuttered his way through his words, hands clenched tightly on the bar table.

Derek turned back to the oven and plated the eggs, his face set in a frown. He handed a plate to Stiles - who smiled at him widely in thanks - and took his own plate, leaning against the counter.

"So then, Isaac , what exactly did you think of me that made you react like that?" Derek raised an eyebrow in question, his voice flat, " was it my injuries? Or the fact that I had a panic attack in the corner - in front of you. Is that what made you be a 'dick' to me. Because that's a pretty pathetic reason."

There was a moment of bewildered silence, and Derek stonily avoided looking at Stiles and instead stabbed at his bacon and cursed himself for his lack of appetite. Isaac cleared his throat. 

"N, no I guess I just got defensive. You have a very angry face and I thought that you were - i don't know! Okay? I just didn't like you and I'm sorry! Honestly when Stiles told me I could barely believe you were a-" there was a thump under the table, and Isaac glared at Scott for a moment.

Putting his plate back on the counter, Derek sighed. 

"Look, you didn't think I was a submissive." He calmly wiped his hands on a dish towel, " that's fine, I wish I wasn't one. But, I really don't want to deal with you right now."

And with that, Derek left the kitchen and escaped to his room.

 

 

Chris woke up alone, with the ceiling lazily spinning above him. He tried to blink away the fuzzy lights but nothing changed except the ache in his head got worse. Slowly lifting an arm to his face, the sub inspected his pale skin and jutting bones with a distasteful frown. He hadn't had a chance to really inspect his body since he's been here, too busy desperately trying to find Derek - and escape his second imprisonment. 

Shutting his eyes tightly, Chris reflected on him and Derek's last encounter. The other submissive was being stubborn, pretending he was someone he wasn't, and it made Chris angry to even think about. The thought that this other Dom was going to hurt Derek was killing him - almost as much as the thought of what Kate was going to do when she found him was. He couldn't bear -

"Are you awake?"

The sub shot up in bed, cursing when his head screamed in protest at the movement. He looked around the room and saw the sheriff standing in the doorway with a day's worth of stubble and a wry smile.

"Can I come in?" The older man asked.

Chris scoffed, " sure, why not?"

The sheriff frowned, walking into the room and sitting in the plastic chair beside him with a huff. They looked at eachother for a moment, before Chris have in to the silence.

"What do you want?"

"To ask a few more questions." The Dom calmly explained. "Can I?"

Sighing in annoyance, Chris nodded his head before sinking back down onto the mattress.

"What specifically is the reason that Kate Argent - your own sister - was starving you and was keeping you in a basement." John raised his eyebrow at the look of denial on Chris's face.

"She wasn't starving me! She was just doing what that bastard told her to do," Chris growled, a sneer on his face. 

"Who?" The Dom stressed.

"My father! Fucking Gerald Argent. He found out that I was - that I was a -" Chris choked, voice fraying " gay submissive. And gay submissives are just selfish, needy bitches who don't deserve to eat and definitely don't deserve to live. I should be grateful that I was let off easy."

John Stilinski sat back on his chair, expression thunderous. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. What could he say? He settled on reaching forward and clasping the submissives bony hand in his, and catching his eyes.

"Listen, Chris." His eyes narrowed, " are you listening?"

The submissive nodded, eyes wide.

"There is nothing I can do right now to help you understand that you are wrong. That will take months, it could take years." John watched the man's face closely. " But I want you to know that submissives are special, they are to be cherished - and loved. But most of all they are people. And no innocent person deserves what you and Derek went through. Do you understand?"

The submissive pulled his hand away, and looked at the ceiling. John spoke to him more, but he ignored him until he was eventually left alone again. The ceiling was an off-white, with a energy saving light fixture and the occasional cracks of too much old paint. He closed his eyes and lost himself again.

 

 

Kate had slammed the basement door shut when she left, and Chris rushed over to the crumpled mess left of the floor. Derek looked up at him in wild panic, one hand clasped around a cut on his arm as thick blood pumped between the gaps in his fingers with alarming force. 

"Please! I can't make it stop!" He whimpered, palm slipping down his arm and releasing a new stream of blood. 

"Fuck, shit ! Put pressure on it, okay!? I'll find a bandage or something," Chris searched the room with hurried motions, all the while Derek's pained cries grew in volume and urgency.

"Please please please!" The submissive sobbed on the floor, fingers digging into his flesh.

The pool of blood was getting thicker and larger, with no sign of the bleeding slowing down. Derek crossed his legs and held his mangled arm to his chest with a scream of terror and pain, a burning hot feeling rising up his arm and the tips of his fingers feeling numb. Chris finally grabbed hold of a strip of spoiled fabric which had been stuffed into the bin. He set to work trying it around Derek's arm and attempting to clean the wound.

When the blood slowed Derek let out a choked cry of relief, slumping against Chris's chest with an exhausted sigh. The submissive dragged him over to the mattress and they laid side by side with their noses touching. The basement was silent except for their shared breaths, and the blinding light above them seemed to illuminate every drop of red on Derek's tired face. The man's face was roughly shaved, and one of his eyes was swollen and black. He didn't look sad - he looked hopeless.

"Do you think, maybe, that I deserved this?" Derek's tiny voice cracked in the cold room.

Chris squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the other mans brow. He thought for a minute, one hand clenched tightly on Derek's.

"No." He whispered in return, " nothing you could do could make you deserve this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore, blood, a lot of panicking. Chris's also has offensive and slightly homophobic views (conditioned into him but still) and has a very low self worth ^^''


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles ate his breakfast calmly, revelling in the stunned silence that the couple sat in. He didn't know what exactly he was supposed to be feeling but at that moment he was just proud that Derek had stuck up for himself. That being said - he did want the two submissives to get along in the end because Isaac was one of the only people who could relate to Derek. The Dom rubbed his face tiredly - this was all a mess.

"Stiles?" A small voice asked.

Looking over he saw Isaac staring resolutely at the table with a frown. 

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, reaching out and running a hand through his curly hair, while Scott stood up and went to the other side of the table to take Isaac's hands in his. 

"I am really sorry, could you tell him that?" The sub kept his eyes on the table. 

"I know you are, I'm sure he'll forgive you when he's ready," Stiles smiled at him reassuringly, before standing up with a stretch, "okay then, I'm gonna get dressed - you guys can hang out here if you want ?"

"No - don't worry, we were just passing through," Scott grinned good-naturedly and stepped into another tight bear hug with the other Dom, who laughed at his puppy of a best friend.

When they parted Isaac had already left the room to wait by the door, and Stiles pulled Scott to the side with a twist to his smile. 

"Is he okay? I mean, what he did was bad but he's not too upset right?" The Dom questioned, a soft spot in his heart for his first assigned submissive. 

"No he's fine, took punishment pretty well actually," Scott gave a wry smile in return, "he was complaining about his ass the whole drive over though."

Stiles snorted, remembering how whiny the submissive had been when they had grown comfortable with eachother. He shook his head with a relieved smile. 

"Okay then, I'll talk to you guys later - maybe give it a week or so before you turn up again. Me and Derek have a busy week ahead!" Stiles called out as he wakes to the door with Scott.

Scoffing, Isaac opened the front door with a rueful grin "yeah - I remember my first week here - he wont know what's hit him."

Stiles rolled his eyes, pulling Isaac into a hug before sending them both on their way before closing the door and venturing up the stairs.

 

 

Derek found himself in Stiles's room, curiosity having gotten the better of him when he reached the hallway. The man's door had been closed - and he thought he might aswell try to get a better look at his new Dominant's mind. Kate's room had been minimalist, cool and lifeless. Not a single picture hung on her wall and the one colour was her blood red pillows and crushed velvet armchair in the corner. Derek felt sometimes that looking into someone's bedroom was like looking at a piece of that person's mind. 

When he opened the door it was like a burst of warmth spilled from the entrance, as the morning sun shone through the double window and one wall was painted in bright yellow. The sub blinked in surprise. Posters, photos and scribbled post it notes covered the walls and the large desk to his right was overflowing with colourful paper and drawings. A huge cozy bed with what looked like ten different blankets dominated the space, and stray clothes littered the floor. The room looked lived in, but bright and vibrant. 

"You okay there?"

Derek jumped at his voice and turned in a rush to face Stiles.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to invade your privacy or anything," the sub mumbled guiltily, eyes on the floor.

Slowly stepping up to Derek, the Dom let a hand rest on his shorn hair with a smile.

"Don't worry about it dude - why don't you get dressed? I have a big busy day planned! " He stepped around the sub with a chuckle and started to fish for clothes on his floor he could wear.

Derek nodded jaggedly before going to his room and picking out a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. He smoothed the fabric over his bandages and found a pair of socks to carefully cover his feet - after a year of next to no walking his feet were soft and sore. The sub paused as flashes of his confinement crossed his mind - thick metal chains, a blood slick floor, trembling hands clinging to cold metal. He shook his head and left the room. 

 

 

Stiles spoke the entire car journey, occasionally reaching over and softly patting Derek's hand before pulling away and pretending nothing had happened. He rambled about Scott, his progress with Isaac, his dad, Lydia-

"Wait." Derek frowned slightly, turning to Stiles in question, "who's Lydia?"

The sub watched him light up at her name - and ignored the small pang in his chest. 

"Oh my god! dude! Lydia is my all time Number Two best friend, next to Scott. We went to high school together and I had a huge crush on her, then as we grew older she founded the assigned submissive program - providing victims of trauma and disfunctional couples with professional Dominants! That's my job!" Stiles gushed at him, his whole demeanor bright and proud. 

Derek felt a bitter taste in his mouth but pushed it aside in order to smile shakily at the man. 

"That's... Great. Good for her - she sounds great," he gritted out. 

Stiles had a faraway look in his eyes, "yeah- she's amazing, dude."

The Dom feel back into his relaxed chatter while Derek sat back and started out the window with a thoughtful look on his face. 

 

Their first stop was the barbers, and Stiles led Derek into a bright and functional building in the centre of town - where an unfamiliar man waited in front of a huge set of mirrors. The man stepped forward and pulled Stiles into a friendly hug before pulling back to offer his hand to the submissive beside him. Cautiously looking down at the hand, Derek clenched his fists around their bandages and ducked his head instead with a slouch of his shoulders. 

"Good morning, sir," he mumbled, eyes respectfully on the floor.

There was a stunned silence as the barber dropped his hand, and Stiles tried not to gape.  The Dominants laughed awkwardly. 

"Danny's fine, actually. Why don't you sit over there and we can get started?" He gave Derek half a smile before going back to the mirrors and readying his supplies with careful hands.

The submissive shuffled over to the large leather barbers chair and shakily sat down - his own reflection gloomily staring back at him. There was a tense silence. Then - with a sharp clap of his hands - Danny caught the two men's attention and raised his eyebrow in question.

"So, what will it be?"

 

 

The next stop was Stiles's office, and the entire car ride the Dom was gushing about Derek's hair with a stupid grin on his face. Derek had been suppressing a pleased smile the majority of the ride; he didn't want to encourage idiotic behaviour. Secretly though Derek was pleased with the his new hair - his beard had been majorly trimmed down to the point of stubble and his entire face had gone from murderous and wild to handsome and brooding. Not that he'd tell Stiles that.

Eventually the sub stopped listening, keeping his eyes on the window and watching Beacon Hills drift by - it felt like forever since he had seen it but not much had changed. The town was small and cozy, the more industrial side was cold and shaded. There was a constant stream of people on the streets but the amount gradually deminished as they ventured further from the town centre.

Finally they reached the police station where Stiles's office was set up, and the Dom jumped out the rest of jeep to help Derek to the floor. They made their way to the entrance. 

"Derek! Meet Deputy Parrish," Stiles gestured over to a man beside the entranceway, his face lit up with excitement.

Derek looked at the man and felt the hesitant look the officer gave him in his soul. The look of both pity and helplessness was faliliar - he had met this deputy before. 

 

 

"Sir , I don't feel right about shutting him here - he's not a criminal," the deputy stressed to his boss, staring at the sub in the corner of the holding cell.

Derek was curled up on the floor, his head clasped tightly in his hands and his eyes sealed shut. The constant noise of the station rattled him and put his skin on edge, a stark contrast to the deathly silent basement and he felt blood sluggishly slide from the mark of the metal collar that had been wrenched from his neck during the raid.

Cold fingers fumbled over his ears when another rise of voices filled the air, the sharp sounds cutting him. Distantly Derek realised he was shaking, his breathing ragged and throat horse as the tremors racked his fragile frame. Shock was paralysing the sub, and a distant thought in his mind was dreading being out of the basement. The basement was a constant, a comfort, a routine - now he felt raw and confused, like the trauma had somehow scabbed over and he was tugging his skin, preparing to reopen it.

"Do you think I feel any better about this Parrish? No, I don't. But he is refusing medical care, he is in complete shock and has attacked two of my officers! Now he needs to stay here until we can sort out a Dominant for him and get him to calm down." the Sheriff frowned at Derek from across the room and the sub shank back into himself, shame burning hot in his stomach.

There were trays of untouched food surrounding him in the floor of the cell, along with smears of blood and the sheriffs jacket. The jacket had been wrapped around the sub's shoulders the day before, when the Derek had breathed in his first taste of outside air in a year. Now it was discarded on the floor because Derek couldn't bear to have clothes on his skin.

John Stilinski signed and stood from his chair, dismissing Parrish before making his way over to the holding cell. Derek stared at the ground.

"Hey, you ready to talk yet?" attempting to soften his voice in response to the submissives flinch, John sat down on the bench beside the cell with a grunt.

The sub curled up tighter, desperately trying to hide his face from the man.

"Could you at least tell me your name? we can find a family member to talk to-" in response the submissive's head shot up.

"DON'T TELL HIM!" Derek rasped with aching lungs, a look of despair on his face.

Alarmed, the Sheriff was quick to reassure him, "don't worry, this is all under your control. I just need to know your name. Okay?"

The submissive gave an overwhelmed whine, both his hands clasping his head, "Derek. Derek Hale." He whispered, the words feeling like glass in his throat.

Derek. Sweetie. Pretty. Slut. Darling. Whore. Ditzy. Air head. Selfish. Bitch. Slave.

The submissive pressed his thumbs into his eyes until they throbbed - who was he anymore?

 

" Derek? Deeerek? Anyone home?" Stiles was waving a flailing hand in front of the sub's eyes, pulling back when the man startled.

"You okay?I told you you should have eaten breakfast!" the Dominant frowned in worry at the submissive, his hand hovering over Derek's shoulder.

"I - I'm fine. It's nice to meet you, Parrish," Derek stuttered out, raising his hand in greeting before Stiles led him into the police station.

"this is gonna be great, let me find Lydia and I can introduce you two!" the Dom smiled reassuringly.

"... Great," Derek grimaced, looking back through the entrance to the car with envy.

Stiles was not joking about it being a long day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh it's been so long. I'm so sorry to any of the readers who are still here, I feel so bad. I have been stuck in this word place where I was so dissatisfied with the last chapter that I couldn't bring myself to write. I've also been unbelievably busy. There are no warnings for this one, I hope you like it!

It felt like the whole station had turned to stare at them as they walked through the doors. Despite the intense stares, Stiles didn't falter his stride until he reached the rows of desks in the precinct and led Derek to his own corner. Derek had his head down, shoulders hunched, and was desperately trying to ignore the other officers - especially the one with a broken nose who was glaring right at him. That incident had occurred on one of the worst days of being in the cell.

While Derek brooded at his desk, Stiles spotted Lydia talking to another officer and rushed over with a smile. She turned to see him, dressed in a sleek black suit and pencil skirt, and stepped up to greet the other Dom with a light hug. Her eyes drifted behind him and widened at the sight of Derek sitting at Stiles's desk.

"They gave Derek to you? That's an... Interesting combination," she frowned, taking in the appearance of Derek's rough bandages and gaunt face. "How's he doing? Any improvements?"

Stiles flailed, his face doing something complicated that Lydia didn't try to understand.

"I think he's doing a bit better, we've had some bumps though." the Dominant winced at the memories.

With a desisive huff, Lydia waltzed past him and walked over to Stiles's desk, sticking her hand out towards the submissive.

"Lydia Martin, I am the founder of this program and would like to do a quick check up on how things are going, is that okay, Mr Hale?" she waited, narrowed eyes staring at Derek as he flinched back.

Derek stared at her delicate hand with a scowl, his skin prickling beneath her gaze, before reaching out and touching the underside of her palm.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am " the submissive kept his gaze on the cluttered desk and avoided her eyes.

Lydia jerked back in surprise, recovering quickly and granting a quick smile before whirling around to find Stiles. The man in question had been sidetracked by the sheriff and was talking animatedly with him on the otherside of the room. She turned back.

"Well, this first bit can be done without him anyway. Would you come with me?" Lydia waited for Derek to react, feigning nonchalance by inspecting the notes in her hand.

Derek froze, eyes finding Stiles in panic. He steeled himself and stood from the chair.

"Ma'am, could I just, tell Stiles before we go anywhere? I'll be quick, I promise," the submissive cursed himself when his voice trembled.

Lydia blinked in surprise at the request, "of course you can," she reassured with a nod.

Derek made his way over to Stiles, watching him interact with the sheriff with curiosity. John looks both exasperated and amused at his son while Stiles rambles with wild gestures, both of them pausing when they see Derek approaching. Surprisingly, the sheriff claps Derek lightly on the shoulder before returning to his office with a smile.

Derek turns to Stiles with slightly wide eyes, clearing his throat before gesturing behind him towards Lydia.

"Your, um, friend wants me to come with her somewhere," the submissive says gruffly.

Stiles looks blank for a second, before lighting up in understanding, "OH, yeah dude that's just one of our back rooms, she's gonna question you a bit about how my care has been and stuff like that. Y'know, to see if we're a good match or not and if things are working out."

Derek's eyes widened further, "they're not going to take me away from you are they?" he asks in shock, voice frayed at the edges. 

"Hey, hey no they arnt. Not unless you want them too. It's gonna be fine, just a few questions and I'll be right at my desk waiting for you," the Dom rested his hand on the back of Derek's neck, letting his thumb lightly scratch the freshly shorn hair on his head. 

Slowly relaxing his muscles, the sub let his eyes fall closed for a moment before stepping back and glancing at Lydia. His glance set her into motion, and he found himself following her down the corridor - leaving Stiles behind. 

 

Chris was awake again, staring at the ceiling bleakly. He had been thinking of Derek all night, thinking of the submissive's cries and screams, his look of betrayal when he heard Chris's name. The time that Derek had first clung to him for safety, and when he'd first felt his priorities shift in place in the face of the submissive's raw agony. 

Kate had been Chris's little sister for as long as he could remember, but now when he thought of her the images in his head merged together. She was playing in the sand pit in their garden, laughing at something he had said, driving a knife through Derek's shoulder blade, sitting at the dinner table with a proud smile after cooking a meal, her face swisted in disgust when she caught Derek crying. Her face morphed in his mind, flicking from kind and cunning to evil and detached. 

The submissive raised his hand and smacked his head sharply, trying to clear his thoughts. He turned to the window, tugging the iv out of his arm with a hiss. With a growl of frustration he twisted his body around and struggled out of the hospital bed with a groan and made his way to the window sill. He was only on the first floor, the drop couldn't be too far. He needed to see Kate, he needed to find her. 

 

Derek gave Lydia a wary look as they sat down in a spare interrogation room. She wasn't even looking at him, too busy setting up her notebook and setting her phone to record their conversation. Finally the Dom looked up and gave him nod before beggining. 

"This is Lydia Martin, performing a standard check in session with AS Derek Hale, who is paired with Stiles Stilinski. Derek, please confirm your name." Her voice was clean cut and professional, making Derek self conscious when he stuttered out his confirmation. 

" Great, now, Derek, how would you describe your relationship with Stilinski so far. Any issues you would like to address? "

" He's... Good. Um. I have my own room?" 

Lydia nodded, writing something in her page, "that's good, have rules and guidelines been set?" 

"Y-yes, they have. But they arnt- uh they aren't nt very demanding." 

"Do you want them to be more 'demanding'?" 

"No, I don't I just thought that they might not be correct," Derek felt his face go red under Lydia's scrutiny. 

"Derek, if you feel like the rules are enough to keep you calm and healthy, then they don't need to be changed no matter how lenient they are." 

"oh." 

"Moving on, have you been dropped yet by Mr stilinski?" 

Derek managed to blush an even deeper shade of red, gruffly saying a small "yes." 

"Did it help your mental stability at the time, was it helpful in general?" 

"Yes, I think so." 

"Have you been punished yet?" 

"No, not yet," Derek paused, clearing his throat, "is that bad?" 

Taping her pen against her notebook edge, Lydia considered her answer before speaking in a calm voice, "well. There's nothing wrong with being punished, and it can help some submissives cope. In the other hand, it can cause stress if the punishment process is too vague. So it is neither good or bad, just normal." 

Lydia finishes writing, before standing up and showing Derek the first genuine smile she had given so far.

"Great, well, I'm done for now but if you have any concerns than feel free to contact me, here's my card," she handed it over and started to flip through her notes, "I'm gonna finish up in here, you can walk back to the precinct now." 

Derek left the room with a relieved sigh, walking down the corridor to find Stiles. He spotted Stiles sitting at his desk, talking to a man who stood with his back to Derek . Derek made his way towards them, trying to tell why he found the man familiar. 

Stiles spotted Derek, standing from his chair in excitement and calling out to him. 

The man stiffened and slowly turned around to face the submissive. Derek gasped in shock. 

"Peter?" his voice trembled, a lump in his throat that wouldn't shift when he swollowed. 

Peter was thinner, with bags under his eyes and a cheap suit hanging off his limbs. There was a patchy layer of stubble on his face, and a fire that burned in his eyes like rage seconds from boiling to the surface. But it was him. 

"Oh my god." the man choked, eyes wide and crazed as they stared at his nephew. 

They moved at the same time, collapsing against each other in a tight, spine re-aligning hug. Derek sobbed into Peters neck, hands gripping the man's back, while Peter clung just as tightly and hushed him. 

Peter pulled away first, holding the submissive at arms length and looking him up and down. The more he looked the darker his face became, his eye twitching with barely conceived anger. 

"What. Happened." he gritted out. 

Stiles chose this moment to break from his shocked silence and step forward, his face twisted from confusion. 

"How do you two know each other?" 

Peter tightened his grip on Derek's shoulders and leaned in, "Derek. Tell me what happened." 

Derek hung his head in shame, tears filling his eyes. Peter shook him in frustration, growling when the submissive gasped in pain at the movement. 

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on. Peter, let him go you're hurting him," Stiles stepped around the desk and put his hand over Peters, carefully lifting it off of Derek and pulling Derek away. "Now could someone tell me whats going on?" 

"Could someone tell ME why my nephew, who has been missing for an entire fucking year, currently looks like he's been shoved through a meat grinder and is acting like a trauma victim?" Peter felt his voice falter when another surge of fury filled him. "Derek!?" 

The man in question flinched from behind Stiles, opening his mouth but no sound comes out. He tried again, but only managed a weak "I'm sorry." 

Peter clenched his fists at his sides, searching his mind for an explanation. He looked at Derek's face, filled with shame and embarrassment, and when his eyes travelled lower they stopped at the bandage around his throat. 

"It was her, wasn't it?" Peter fumed, watching for Derek's reaction. 

When he got nothing he slammed his fist on the table and yelled out, "ANSWER ME!" 

"Okay, come on, let's go to my place and we can talk." Stiles rushed out when he saw three police officers stand at Peters yell. "Guys, come ON." 

Derek started to follow Stiles, as well as a still fuming Peter.

They reached the jeep, with Peter and Derek in the back, and Stiles started to drive back to his house. Peter reached across the seats and rested his arm around Derek, sighing when he felt his nephew relax against him. He rested his chin on Derek's hair, closing his eyes in frustration. 

"I'm not, I'm not mad at you, okay?" Peter mumbled into his hair. 

Derek stared blankly at the ground, whispering a soft "I know." 

"Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving." Stiles broke the tension with a nervous chuckle, " so when we get home I can mak- WHAT THE FUCK!??" 

He sharply swerved the car as a man blindly ran across the road and collapsed in the middle of it. They all jerked forward at the movement as the jeep stuttered to a stop inches away from the man's body. 

They all sat in the car in shock as they stared at the man. Stiles rushed out of the car and ran to him, watching him lift his head-

"Chris!?" 

Chris was curled up on the road, his hospital gown wrapped tightly around him. He looked up in confusion and gaped at Stiles.   
"oh for fucks sake," Stiles groaned. 

 

They all sat in disgruntled silence in the jeep, Chris and Derek in the back and Peter in the passanger seat. Stiles finally pulled up at his house and let out a worn out sigh. 

"Right. Looks like we've all got some explaining to do." he sighed, giving a strained smile to the group. 

He stepped out of the jeep, helping Derek out with calm movements while a confused Peter helped Chris out of the other side. They made their way into Stiles's - now slightly cramped - living room and spread themselves across the sofa, the armchair and the carpeted floor. 

Stiles clears his throat, "who wants to start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would mean a lot to hear some opinions on what could happen next, I hope you guys will like the next chapter!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! Hello, happy new year!! Another chapter is out so I hope you like it, there are a few general warnings in the end notes :0

Peter seemed to have calmed down to some degree, his narrow eyes searching the room. He zeroed in on Stiles's hand which was resting on the back of Derek's neck.

"So, Stiles. Is there a reason that you and my nephew are so close?" he said with a raised brow, a smirk stretching across his face when Stiles went red in response.

"He is my assigned submissive," Stiles watched Peter carefully.

The smirk dropped from his face like he had been doused with ice water. Stiles watched warily as Peter visibly reined himself in and unclenched his fists. Everyone knew why submissives were assigned to professional dominants - trauma. 

"Derek. I need you to tell me what happened. Please." Peter looked seconds away from begging, staring intently at the submissive.

Derek closed his eyes with a whine and rested his head on his hands. "Kate. She- she took me last year. I've been with her this whole time, b-but I was found last week."

Peter stood from his seat with a snarl "And I'm only finding out that you were found NOW!?"

Flinching away from him, Derek let out a whine and ran his fingers through his hair - tugging the strands in distress. Quickly taking Derek's hands in his and pulling them away from his head, Stiles glared Peter back into his seat. Peter sat down sharply with a face like thunder.

"I just needed some time," the submissive whispered.

"Like how you 'just needed some time' to work on your relationship with sweet, sweet Kate last year?" Peter spat.

Stiles hissed out a warning to the other Dominant but was ignored.

"Oh yeah, she just needed some pointers on how you wanted to be treated, she didn't know any better. 'Peter how could you curse at my dominant like that' 'Peter she's not that bad she's just learning' 'Peter she didn't mean to lock me outside, she didn't realise' " the man's voice got louder and louder, all the while Derek was cringing into himself with scalding tears running down his face.

The dominant looked like he was readying to continue, but was cut off by a rough voice.

"Enough!" Chris had uncurled himself on the rug, and was staring at Peter with hatred. "Leave him alone."

There was a pause.

"Who the fuck are you anyway!?" Peter yelled.

Chris rolled his eyes, all the while shivering in the chill of the room, "I'm the other person who was with Derek."

Peter frowned in confusion, "Why are you not covered in bruises?"

Chris opened his mouth to answer but Stiles cut him off "Why don't we not open that can of worms today? Okay?" he pleaded, one hand flailing while the other clutched Derek's tightly.

"I was there for a different purpose." Chris snapped, much to Stiles's dismay.

"Okay. Guys, stop! Everyone stop." Stiles finally stood from the couch, stepping between Peter and Chris. "Peter, I know you're angry right now, but Derek is not in the right state for you to be stressing him out like this. He's been gone for a whole year - appreciate his return or get out."

Peter looked at his trembling nephew guiltily, anger visibly draining from his face. Stiles jerked his head towards the sub and Peter shakily moved to sit next to Derek on the couch. Stiles soothed Derek's hair down on his head before turning back to Chris.

"Come on, we need to talk to," Stiles gestured to the stairs, and a hesitant Chris followed him up them.

 

For a while Peter and Derek sat in silence, the submissive staring resolutely at the floor and the Dominant clenching and unclenching his hands together.

" I - I remember when you finally came to me about her. You walked all the way to my apartment in the rain, you said that Laura wasn't picking up her phone and that you needed someone to talk to. That night, the things you told me about Kate made me want t-to" Peter choked on his words, fighting down his surge of emotions. "they made me want to kill her. And she just got worse. I don't understand how you could have stopped talking to me about it - for months. How you could pretend that everything was fine and then just, just go MISSING. I can't believe I didn't see through her bullshit the day I met her. "

With a shaking breath, Derek nodded numbly at his uncle's words. He remembered talking to Peter about Kate, the immense guilt he had felt for causing the anger Peter felt towards her. There was an echo of the same guilt now, resonating within his chest and aching like a bruise that could never fade.

"I didn't want to worry you," he breathed, feeling Peter tense beside him.

"Worry me? Derek you disappeared off the face of the earth for an entire year. How could that not worry me!?"

The submissive could remember when he'd first introduced Kate to Peter. He had cooked a big meal at his own apartment (when he'd still had it) and planned to eat with them both. Although it wasn't as important as it had been traditionally, it was still a key moment for a sub to introduce their dominant to the highest in power member of their household. Ever since the fire that had been Peter.

 

She answered the phone the second time he rang, answering with a disinterested grunt. Derek seethed into the phone, "You're late, where are you?"

Katie's simpering laugh echoed through the line, "Sweetie I'm almost there. Just took a little detour is all."

The submissive huffed a breath through his nose in frustration and embarrassment. Peter was patiently waiting at the table, lazily flicking through one of Derek's history books, like he had been for the last half an hour. After a few more muttered threats Derek hung up.

Looking up, his uncle frowned at the wound up state of his nephew. "Derek, I'm sure she's just stuck in traffic. Calm down," he reassured .

Slowly letting out another breath, Derek adjusted his hair for the tenth time that night and joined Peter at the table to stare at the ever cooling food. They sat in companionable silence.

"The food looks good, pup, "Peter commented.

The submissive slouched further into his chair, mumbling out a "Thanks."

There were 3 quick sharp knocks on the front door, to which Derek sprang out of chair and rushed to answer. He opened the front door to reveal Kate wearing a purple business suit and grinning with her signature blood red lips. Just as the submissive prepared to confront her on the time she swept forward and captured his words with her mouth, one manicured hand threading through his hair and tugging harshly at the strands. Finally she pulled away with a sudden bite to his tongue, her eyes travelling behind Derek and narrowing.

With slightly delayed movements, Derek turned too and saw Peter standing at the end of the hallway with a smirk. Kate brushed past the sub and prowled closer to Peter, both of them eyeing each other like predators crossing paths for the first time. Peter held out his hand.

"My name is Peter Hale, I'm Derek's uncle and current dominant figure-"

"He already explained this to me," Kate interrupted with a tight smile, reaching forward and tightly shaking the other dominant's hand.

Peters eye twitched at the interruption but he smoothly continued, "Why don't we go eat, Derek cooked."

As he turned and entered the dining room, he almost missed Kate's muttered "obviously" from behind him. Almost.

All three of them sat down at the table - with Derek in the middle and Kate and Peter at opposite ends. Derek nervously dished up the meal, hands minutely shaking. He had spent the last few hours making the lasagne before Peter had arrived and helped him set the table. Kate took a bite and paused, a crease between her brows.

"It's cold." she stated, dropping her fork onto her plate with a disgusted noise.

Peter glared, hackles rising, "that's because you-"

"Why don't I go warm this up?" Derek stammered before Peter could say another word, already standing and gathering the plates.

Kate continued to frown at him as he moved, "you shouldn't interrupt a dominant, Derek."

Derek blinked, opening his mouth to reply before closing it again.

His uncle scoffed at her, "I am not that kind of Dom, thank you very much. He is my nephew, not my slave."

With a careless flip of her hair, Kate took out her phone and started to look through it. Derek left to heat up their meals.

The room slipped into a tense silence, Peter watching Kate and Kate purposefully ignoring him. Derek stood alone in the kitchen and put the food in the microwave, before leaning against the counter and resting his head in his hands with a sigh. This was a terrible idea.

When he returned with the meal he set Katie's plate down first before putting the rest in the middle. Kate took a bite and yelled in alarm.

"FUCK!shit it's too hot you idiot!" she stood and stormed to the kitchen to drink water from the tap, all the while cursing and shouting.

Derek rushed behind her in panic, "oh my god I am so sorry! Kate let me help-"

The dominant whirled around and slapped him across the face - hard. Derek's head snapped to the side with the force of it and he let out a whimper of pain. With trembling fingers he reached up and felt the thin trails of blood that ran down his cheek. 

Silently watching his Dominant drink a glass of water, Derek attempted to swallow down the deep hurt that had caught in his throat at the blow. His face throbbed. Finally Kate turned back to him with a blank stare and like a switch was flicked her face seamlessly melted into one of guilt and compassion. Derek attempted to speak but found that his head had slipped back into the fuzzy, ambiguous space that came before subspace. 

"Is everything alright in there?" Peter called from the other room. 

"Yes we're fine, one second!" Kate called back. 

She crowded Derek against the kitchen counter, using her thumb to wipe at the blood on his face. Derek let out a small whine when she pressed on the forming bruise, causing Katie to hum in sympathy. 

"It's okay baby, I'm sorry, let me just clean this up," she whispered, reaching into her bag and taking out her makeup. 

The Dominant used some tissue and dabbed away the blood around the cuts from her pointed nails, hushing any noise that he made. She smeared concealer on his cheek and kissed his nose. 

"We are going to go back to the table now, and you can't tell Peter about this - you wouldn't want him to know that you made me angry would you?" her voice was like silk, and Derek found himself nodding in response. 

"I need you to come back for me, okay? Earth to Derek?" she clapped in front of his face and watched him jerk back in surprise. 

"Kate?" Derek slurred, hand lifting to touch the thick layer of makeup on his skin. "W-Wha-" 

"And we're back, come on Derek!" Kate pulled him through the door and back into the dining room. 

Peter looked up from the table with a mildly annoyed frown, watching his faintly dishevelled nephew sit back down in his chair. 

Kate looked up from her plate and sweetly smiled at Derek, her eyes as cold as ice. 

"Sweetie, the lasagne is so good," she simpered at him. 

"Thank you," Derek mumbled. 

"So, Kate, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself ?" Peter grinned, showing both rows of perfect porcelain teeth. 

Kate raised an eyebrow, but answered anyway, "well I work as part of my families weapon trading business. It pays very well, so I can get Derek out of this ratty apartment soon. I am a firm believer in traditional roles of the household, naturally." 

Peter scoffed, "and what are those, exactly?" 

"Submissives should stay at home, spending their time serving the dominants." Kate answered swiftly and confidently. 

"Derek - you would hate that," Peter outright laughed at the notion that his nephew could possibly become a housesub. 

The submissive in question grimaced at his plate, "we're working through it. We don't know yet." 

Kate nodded along to his words, but her expression didn't falter for a second. 

"Yeah, we are working on it." she looked at Derek with a mixture of possessiveness and smug glee, "we'll sort it out." 

 

Derek leaned back against the couch and let out a bone weary sigh. Peter did the same. 

"How's Laura?" the submissives voice cracked around her name. 

His uncle blew air out his nose, eyebrows scrunched together, "she stopped contacting me around five months ago. Said she couldn't stand to stay here. Last time I heard she was in New York." 

"Did- Did everyone stop looking for me?" Derek whispered, his face crumpling. 

With slow, hesitant movements Peter wrapped his arms around his nephew and pulled the man into a hug. He could feel Derek's body becoming wracked with sobs and held tighter. 

"I didn't. I promise I didn't stop looking for you." 

 

 

Chris sat down awkwardly on Stiles bed, looking around the cluttered room with disdain. He scoffs lightly at the iron-man poster on the wall opposite him. With measured movements Stiles sits down beside him.

"So, you ran away from the hospital. " the Doms voice was matter-of-fact, but Chris heard the frustration beneath it.

"I escaped."

"You escaped from a place that was supposed to have been making you healthier, I don't know if you noticed but you are severely malnourished. Which is why you collapsed in the road and I almost ran you over!" Stiles scoffed in exasperation. 

"Look, you don't control me, you're not my dominant. I don't need a dominant." Chris snarled. 

"I fucking KNOW! You think that I'm trying to Dom you?! You're like a 1 on the submissive scale," Stiles griped. 

Chris paused, "the submissive scale?" 

"Yeah, do you not know about that?" the Dom frowned, watching Chris shake his head, "well, roughly speaking, dominants and submissive fit into a 1 to 10 scale of dependency. So Derek would be, like, a 9. And I'm an 8 Dominant so we can have a give and take situation without many setbacks, that's how professional dominants get partnered in the first place. That means that Derek almost always needs a Dominant in his life, whether that means a family member or a relationship. "

Chris silently took in the information presented to him, staring intently at his bony hands and clenching his fists. He knew so little about submissives - the result of suppressing his own nature his whole life. 

"So, I'm - barely a submissive? " Chris asked with a look of tired hope. 

"You are as much of a submissive as every other one, but you don't need to rely on a dominant. But, there is NOTHING wrong with being submissive," Stiles explained earnestly. 

Chris groaned, "do you have any idea how annoying it is when a Dominant tells me that I shouldn't hate being a submissive?" 

"No, I may not be a submissive by nature but I was a submissive for 6 months," Stiles sighed. 

The sub turned his head sharply, "what?" 

Stiles chuckled, "professional dominants have to enter a submissive training course to be able to understand levels of sensitivity within submissives during a scene. It's not a good idea for long term, but there are methods that put Dominants into a false kind of subspace. "

"How did you find it? "Chris scoffed, looking away once more. 

" Honestly, I both hated and loved it. I hated the lack of control, and the trust that I had to put into another person. But I loved the feeling of being cared for, and for being the one thing that my Dominant at the time was focusing on. It was special." Stiles let out another sigh, before clapping his hands together, "but, anyway. That's not what I was planning on talking to you about. "

Turning around fully on the other end of the bed, Stiles looked intently at Chris, " Derek is my responsibility. And you are stressing him the fuck out. I know you care about him - so could you just… wait to be healthier before you go do whatever you were planning to do after running away from the hospital?"

The submissive glared at Stiles for a long moment, assessing his sincerity, before letting out a growl of frustration and scratching the back of his neck, "fine. Sure. Whatever. " he muttered. 

 

When the two of them returned downstairs they saw Derek curled up on the couch, Peter holding him with an iron grip. Stiles gave him a tense smile and offered the armchair to Chris - but remained standing himself. In response to the expectant silence in the room Derek uncurled from the space in Peters side and faced everyone else with a miserable expression. He retracted into himself further when he felt Chris's intense stare. 

"Okay then," Stiles announced, "we have a few things to discuss as a group; firstly, Peter." 

"What?" the man scowled in return, looking so much like Derek in that moment that Stiles had to hold back a smile. 

"I don't know what point you and Derek are in on your reunion, but I need you to tell me when you next want to visit so I know ahead of time, and secondly, Chris, you are currently without a place to live, so I've found a good person who you can stay with."

Chris looked at Stiles in panic," who are they? "

The dominant smiled reassuringly,"my dad, the sheriff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild forms of abuse and themes of anti-submissive mindsets. There's also unintentional victim blaming/guilting.
> 
> I'd love to know what you think of the chapter if you want to comment :))


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Its veen a while but ive finally dome this chapter :D i hope you like it!
> 
> There are a few warnings so if you are sensitive to any of them i recommend checking the notes :)

Peter left with a promise to return in a few days, an iron grip on Derek's arm and a sad tired smile. With desperate movements the submissive pulled him into a hug and breathed in his familiar scent. Even after all this time he smelled like family. 

Chris left next, when the Sheriff knocked on the door of Stiles’s House. He gave Derek a stiff hug before leaving with John, eyes wide with apprehension. 

Finally Stiles and Derek were alone, and the dominant collapsed onto the couch with a muffled moan of exhaustion while Derek went to prepare some sandwiches. They ate in silence. 

Derek wolfed down his food with an urgency that made Stiles wince - he really needed them to get on a proper food and sleep schedule. Calmly placing their plates to the side they both leaned against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling, and by the time Stiles turned to Derek the submissive was asleep. 

 

They had tried to escape once, early on in their captivity when Derek still fought back and Chris wasn't an empty shell. Kate had gone to answer her phone upstairs and Chris had swiped her keys. They had to move fast. With trembling fingers Chris unlocked Derek's shackles, leaving the collar on. They both stumbled across the room and Chris grabbed a heavy pair of pliers from the table. Hesitant feet slipping on the bloody floor, they made it to the stairs in seconds and dragged themselves up them. 

The house was different from Kate's house, although it was just as pristine. Derek surged forward through the room with Chris at his heels, and they had almost reached the front door - could almost smell the outside. Thick smears of blood and dirt were left on the floor as they ran through the hall - but Derek crashed to the ground. Chris reached the door but turned in fear when he heard Derek scream in agony. 

Kate was standing over Derek with a remote in her hand, so the while the submissive was crumpled on the ground and seizing with electricity. Kate had a manic gleam in her eye. 

"If you fucking open that door I will kill him!" she screamed, "I will burn every inch of his body until all he can taste is his own blood!" 

Chris put his hand on the door but pulled it off when Derek's body twisted on the ground, veins bulging to the surface of his skin like wires that wrapped around his limbs. 

Kate raised the control in her hand with a shriek," You think you can leave!? The last thing Derek will see is your back as you let him die!" 

The submissive stared in horror as Derek stopped moving, his face frozen in pain, and his panting breaths turned shallow and raspy. Chris made a decision.

"Let him go! I'm not leaving!" he cried out, stepping away from the door. 

Kate finally clicked the controller and Derek's body goes limp. Chris rushed over to him and collapsed at his side, feeling for the man's pulse with frantic movements and sighing in relief when he felt it. The relief was short lived - a splitting pain rushed into his head and the world went dark. 

 

Chris awoke in the basement, his arms and legs chained close to the wall and a metal bar shoved between his teeth. When his vision cleared he saw Derek strung up by his wrists on a wire dense on the other end of the room, the man in question stripped and unconscious. Kate sat at the table, her tools spread before her like cutlery. 

She notices that Chris is awake and let's a slow grin stretch across her lips. 

"Well, nice of you to join me," the dominant simpered, "now we're just waiting for my boy to wake up and we can start." 

"He's not your boy," Chris snarled through the gag. 

Kate let her fingers wander over a large kitchen knife, feeling its tip with her thumb. 

"We'll see about that ," she simpers. 

Derek woke with a gasp, his hands clashing against the chains as he struggled. He looked around in terror and despair, his eyes locking desperately with Chris's before closing in defeat. 

"Now, whose idea was this little escape plan? Hmm?" the dominant’s voice was smooth and unhurried, demonstrating the complete indifference she felt in the moment. 

"It was me! It was my idea I swear!" Chris rushed out, trying to straighten from his slumped position against the wall. 

Kate scoffed, "now, now, now. We don't like liars in this house, do we, Derek?" 

Derek let out a small noise of distress when she picked up a curled fang-like blade and sauntered over to him. 

"You've been running your pretty little mouth again, haven't you?" Kate eased the knife between the subs clenched teeth and rested the edge along the underside of his tongue, "I think it would be best if you didn't speak at all for a bit, does that sound fair to you? Baby?" 

With a startled sob that tore from his throat, Derek braced himself as the knife curled into his flesh and began to make a deep cut into his tongue. Blood filled his mouth and he gagged - distantly aware of the other submissive yelling in the background. But as suddenly as it arrived the knife was pulled from his mouth and Kate stalked away from him. 

When she reached the top of the basement stairs she turned and grinned menacingly at him, "if I hear a word from you again that isn't permitted by me - I really will cut it out. For now I can think of much better purposes for your tongue." 

 

Derek woke with a start. He looked around the room with frantic eyes before remembering where he was and slumping back down onto the couch. Early morning light glowed through the window and the room was still faintly cold from the night chill, making Derek pull the blanket that was wrapped around him tighter. 

The door to the living room opened and Stiles slumped tiredly into the room with a mug of coffee - jumping at the sight of Derek watching him. 

"Hey, man. Did you sleep okay?" the dominant murmured before sitting down on the other end of the couch. 

Derek opened his mouth to answer but his words died in his throat. Frowning, he tried again. Nothing. He sat up straighter and attempted to force the words out but all that escaped was a broken whine and then a spike of fear in his mind. 

"Hey? Derek?" Stiles set down his drink and moved closer to the now shaking submissive before taking the man's face in his hands. "What's wrong?" 

With trembling hands, the submissive clung to Stiles's shirt and lowered his gaze in shame. 

"Can you tell me what's going on? Are you in pain?" Stiles urged. 

Shaking his head frantically, Derek leant forward far enough to bury his face in the dominants neck. 

"Derek. Talk to me," he let the Dom sink into his voice. 

Derek let out a broken noise and whispered, "yes sir?" 

"Is there something wrong? Talk to me," Stiles ordered, hands rubbing calming circles on the submissive back. 

"No sir, nothing is wrong." 

The dominant relaxed, one hand coming up and stroking Derek's hair absently. 

"Do you just… not want to talk today?" Stiles asked in defeat. 

Derek nodded, and Stiles sat back on the couch with the submissive curled into his side. Steadily stroking his hand down Derek's back, the Dominant let out a weary sigh and with his other hand picked his coffee back up. 

 

It was morning in John Stilinski's house , and for the first time in over a decade there was a submissive sitting at his breakfast bar. It would have made the man stop and think over the deja vu of the situation - but right now he had more important things to do. Such as making Chris eat something. 

"I'm just not hungry," the man grouched, pushing the toast away from him with a scowl. 

John pushed the plate back with a frustrated huff. 

" Listen, could you just eat a tiny bit? I won’t try and make you eat anything for the rest of the day," he reasoned. 

"I'm not going to eat something, I'm not hungry," Chris scowled. 

"Fine." John muttered, taking the plate and dropping it loudly in the sink. 

Chris flinched, and the dominant huffed out an exhausted breath. With every second dragging out the tense silence, John finally gave in and went to tie his shoes and get ready for work. 

“Where am I going to be while you’re at the station?” Chris called out to him in the hallway, voice wavering with uncertainty.

“If you think for a second that I’m going to let you out of my sight, then you’re an idiot,” John scoffed, walking back to Chris and passing him a pair of his own shoes to wear, “you’re coming with me.”

 

The Sheriff’s office was bland and neutral and Chris felt exhaustion settle into his shoulders as soon as he sat down on the couch that was pressed into the corner. John glanced at the submissive with a wary smile, taking in his sleepy demeanour. 

"Do you want to sleep? You can if you want to," the Sheriff said as he sat himself down behind his desk. 

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but paused when he let out a yawn instead.

"Fine, but only for a bit," he muttered before curling up tight on the couch and closing his eyes. 

John settled down to start filling out paperwork, the quiet him of the station lulling him into a calm haze while he sorted everything on his desk. The last few weeks had been exhausting, from the sheer amount of work to do to the enraged submissive that had had to be restrained in front of the entire station. Grimacing at the memory, John shook his head - he hadn’t had to be Dominant in a long time but Derek’s every movement cried out for someone to reassure him, someone to direct him.

 

“PARRISH! Grab the fucking tranquilliser and quick!” The Sheriff had one hand clutching the side of his head where a particularly strong punch had slammed into his ear and the other hand desperately wrapped around the struggling submissives torso.

Derek had shook himself from the painful sleep that the officers bullet had forced him into, just in time to wake as he was being carried into the police station. His lungs were filled with the icy air and his eyes strained against the first glimmer of natural light he had seen in months. He was naked, like he had been in the basement, except for a Sheriff’s jacket that had been wrapped around his shoulders. Derek lifted his head blearily from his position in a large officers hold - just in time to see Chris on a stretcher being taken to an ambulance. 

Adrenaline hit his exhausted body like a blast of cold water and he pushed himself out of the officers arms and ran towards Chris in panic, feet stumbling beneath him on the sharp gravel. The officer ran after him with a yell, but the submissive turned and punched him square in the nose and heard it make a sickening crack beneath his fist. Before he could turn back to Chris another, older man had grabbed him and Derek lashed out again with a terrified cry. 

John Stilinski held onto Derek with as much strength as he could muster, desperately ignoring the horrifying screams that escaped the submissives mouth. Realising that the other officers were too far away to be of any immediate help, and that the entire station was emptying out to watch the commotion, John had to think fast. He put one hand gingerly around Derek's neck, slippery with blood, and his other firmly grabbed the man's shoulder. He pushed down with as much force as he could muster and shouted with the most dominance he could find in his voice.

“KNEEL!” 

There was a moment of silence, tension thick in the open air, before Derek crumpled to his knees with a choked off cry. The submissive curled in on himself on the cold floor and started to sob, and John looked around in panic. Jordan Parrish was desperately trying to block off the view of them from the crowd, while other police officers tended to deputy Myers, the man whose nose was currently spurting blood. Letting out a series of distressed whimpers, Derek clung to John's leg with an urgency that made the man shift in surprise.

He leaned down and ran a hesitant hand over the thick locks of matted hair on the submissives head, before gently pulling him to his feet.

“Hey, I need you to follow me, come on,” the Sheriff ordered, leading the submissive inside the precinct.

They made their way across the large room, Derek pressed tightly against John’s side. John stood still for a second, looking at his deputies blood that still dropped from the submissives fist. He swore to himself in frustration before bringing Derek to the holding cell in the corner of the room - currently empty of any criminals. Standing in front of the bars with wide, hazy eyes, Derek watched John unlock the cell with bated breath. Despite the fog of sub space clouding his head, there was a sliver of fear that flickered through his mind at the sight of this new, unfamiliar Dominant opening what looked to him like a large cage.

John took a long look at the submissive. The man’s entire body was a wreck, the cuts and bruises just the worst of it. He found himself the most upset over the hickies and teeth marks that littered his skin. But despite this, John could see the tight clench of both his fists - the pent up terror and rage in his eyes. He knew that right now, this submissive wasn’t safe.

“Get in,” the Sheriff ordered with a wince.

The look of heartbreak and betrayal on the submissives face was one he would never forget, the forced bond that was put into place when a Dominant ordered a submissive broken within minutes of it forming. Derek flinched back from the order, his hands raising to hug his torso for security.

“I- I don’t want to,” the submissive pleaded with a raspy voice.

“C’mon, son. Just for a little bit while we sort things out,” John found himself pleading in return, the guilt squeezing around his heart like a vice.

Derek felt panic and fear rise up once again, the rushing pulse of his own blood in his ears. Quickly looking around for an escape, the submissive tensed his muscles and prepared to run- only to feel a strong hand push him into the cell. The door locked behind him and Derek whirled around in shock to stare at the Sheriff’s retreating back.

“LET ME OUT ! PLEASE SIR!” The submissive sobbed, hands reaching through the bars and desperately trying to grab hold of someone - anyone.

He slammed his fists against the door and then prowled around the cell like a caged lion, feeling the stares of everyone in the station. Derek saw the Sheriff looking at him from across the room and frantically called out to him. When John turned away he fell to his knees and let out a heart wrenching roar.

 

 

Sheriff Stilinski shook himself from the unpleasant memory and turned back to his work, rubbing at his forehead where he felt the beginnings of a headache start to build. Chris was fast asleep on the couch, and John was grateful that the man was finally getting some rest. He needed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hate being awful and abusive- (what else is new) eletricution, tongue cutting, verbal abuse.  
> Because of trauma derek is mute for the day.   
> The sheriff Doms him against his will (although thw situation kind of calls for it) and theres general moments of sadness and violence.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love constructive criticism and comments so feel free xx


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